What's in a Name
by Ham Atom
Summary: Michelangelo Hamato wasn't always Michelangelo Hamato. Before he was adopted, he was called something else, and something else before that. But he doesn't talk about that. Ever. AU—details inside.
1. A Little Human

Title: What's In a Name

Synopsis: Michelangelo Hamato wasn't always Michelangelo Hamato. Before he was adopted, he was called something else, and something else before that. But he doesn't talk about that. Ever. AU—details inside.

A/N: This story takes place right after the events of the second live action film,_ Secret of the Ooze_ (if you haven't seen it, there's a link to that and the first movie in my profile—must-sees, the both of 'em). However, in this little universe, Michelangelo's story is a tad different. Namely, the turtles' youngest brother is a human (I know, but bear with me), and his past is interwoven with Splinter's and the boys' in ways even he doesn't know. So this is sort of two stories in one. Michelangelo's origin story and what's happening now. Keep in mind that these characters are based off the movies, not so much the cartoon (though it's an awesome show). So if the characters seem a tad different than they do in the cartoon, that would be why. Either that, or the writing's not that good. Heh. Not gonna lie; that's possible. But I'll let you make that call.

Also note that this is set in present day. Just 'cause I can.

Disclaimer: From this point on I will only answer to the name of Peter Laird. Oh, wait, no, isn't that the guy who really does have a hand in this stuff? My mistake. I'm just the obsessed fan. Oh, yeah. I own nothing that already exists.

Act I

"I'm gonna kill you!"

"You'll never take me alive!"

"Wasn't plannin' on it! Now hold still, ya little monkey!"

"You wish. Gotta catch me, Raphie boy!"

This was followed of course by a growl and a smattering of giggles and taunts. _They're starting early today_, Leonardo inwardly groaned, keeping his eyes firmly shut on principle. He wasn't a late riser by nature, so it stood to reason that the one day he felt like sleeping in, his little brothers would decide to greet the new day with shouts and…_crash!_ Uh-oh. Whatever that was sounded important. Abandoning his principles, Leo opened his eyes so he could roll them, half annoyed, half curious. He tossed his blanket aside and rolled out of bed, tugging open the sliding doors of the old subway car that had recently become his bedroom. There was a dazed-looking Michelangelo picking himself up off the concrete floor, surrounded by what was left of that antique baby carriage someone had left behind decades ago. "Dude, how long has that been there?" Raphael was right on his tail.

Leo saw the moment realization dawned on Mikey's face of his imminent danger. Too late. The red-banded turtle tackled the boy, rolling through the debris in a mass of swirling green and orange until Raphael ended up on top, effectively pinning the smaller ninja. Leo grinned. Mikey always prided himself on his speed--anyone with a mouth like his _should _be able to run fast--so when one of his brothers managed to catch him--it was just kind of fun.

"Gotcha." Raphael gave his menacing smile—made Mikey _squirm_.

"Ah, Raph," Mikey said nervously, "I think we should talk about this. See, bro, I just kinda thought you could use a little color, a little personality, if you know what I…" Raph cut him off with a growl and probably tightened his grip a little because Mikey made that little squeak sound he does. "No? Well, heh, personally, I think you've never looked better…eep!" Before Raph could do any permanent damage to his orange-loving brother, Leonardo suddenly and silently leapt forward, planting a shoulder into his red-bandanaed brother and sending the turtle flying. There was a rather dramatic crash. Leo stood over Mikey from behind as the blue-eyed trouble-magnet grinned up at him upside down. "Morning, Leo."

"Michelangelo," Leo nodded and cut to the chase. "Your fault or his?"

"Mm…mine."

"See my surprise?"

"Well, actually, you don't look all that…"

And by then, Raph was up, and Mikey let out a little squeak before kicking his legs out and gracefully vaulting to his feet in time to dodge the oncoming attack. It was then that Leo got a full view of his hotheaded brother. Raph's plastron was covered in little colorful sketches. Little rainbows and daisies and…was that a puppy? Leo couldn't help it--not that he tried--he burst into laughter. Raph's head shot around to glare at his older brother.

"Not funny, Leo."

"A little funny, Raph," Leo snickered.

"You could be next."

"Doubt it. But I'll help you catch him."

Mikey jumped up onto the table and did a back flip to land on top of one of the subway cars. He sent Leo a big theatrical look of betrayal. "Wha…? Say it ain't so, Leo!"

As his two older brothers started for him, Mikey did an acrobatic leap off the top of the car, landing behind Raph. Then he ran screaming like a little girl. "Dooooonnnnnyyyyyyyy!"

"Get him!"

Just as he reached Donatello's car, the door unexpectedly slid open. Unable to slow his momentum, Michelangelo plowed straight into the tired-eyed turtle, knocking them both backward. "Oomph!"

The unsuspecting and totally innocent Donny found himself suddenly tangled up in human arms and legs. "Mikey! What the…?"

And at that point, red- and blue-banded turtles jumped into the fray, and suddenly, it was a big, confusing game of king-of-the-shifting, kicking, laughing, hollering hill.

"My sons!"

Four heads popped up at the stern Japanese voice. Leo cleared his throat, venturing to be the first to speak. "Uh, Master Splinter. Good morning." He tried a smile.

The large rat leveled a look at them, then his eyes swept back and pointedly scanned the lair—more specifically, their warpath. One of their tables that had been stacked with dishes and other odds and ends was up-ended, its contents scattered, some broken. Then there was that antique baby carriage that had come with the place—pretty much destroyed by one of Mikey's clumsier moments. And a wooden chair was now missing a leg. When had that happened? "Would any of you like to speak to this?"

There was a three-fingered hand at the back of Mikey's neck. He probably hadn't even known whose hand it was until it squeezed. "Yeeeahh! My fault! My fault. Ow." He looked at his master. "Oh. Heh. This was my fault, Master Splinter." Trying to pry the fingers off, he sent a quick glare at Raph who returned it with a smug smile. "Yes. Sorry. I'll…um…work on…that. Then. Ahem."

"You will mend and straighten everything you have broken or upset."

"What?" Mikey seemed shocked at the unfairness of that, apparently forgetting he was supposed to be going for contrite. "By myself? What about Raph? He's the one who practically assaulted me to death!" The hand at Mikey's neck suddenly whapped him on the back of the head. "Ow!"

"And why did he do that my son?" Splinter asked.

"We, ah, have different tastes in art, and he's way over-sensitive about it."

Leo smothered a laugh behind his hand.

"He freakin' graffitied all over my shell!"

"It's washable!"

"Enough! Raphael will not be assisting you in cleaning up our home."

Raphael sent Mikey a superior look. "Hm." Mikey rolled his eyes.

"He will be too busy doing his flips."

Mikey was suddenly triumphant. "Hah!"

"What?" Raphael saw the look on his master's face and wisely grumbled the rest to himself.

"Leonardo, you will help Michelangelo."

Leo gave a sheepish shrug and a nod. He probably deserved that.

"And Donatello…"

"Hey, I was an innocent bystander…"

"It is your day to prepare breakfast, is it not?"

"Oh." Donny blinked. The tech-savvy turtle was definitely more of a night owl than a morning person. His mind, though remarkable, tended to have trouble processing anything before ten a.m. and at least two cups of coffee. "Yeah, it is. I should probably get on that."

"That you should," Splinter nodded. "As should the rest of you begin your assigned tasks." With that, the master turned. Leo knew he wasn't imagining the slight smile on the ninja master's face, or the quietly mumbled, "Kids," with that fond exasperation the four brothers knew so well.

Leo stood, pulling Mikey up next to him and propelling his little brother out of the car ahead of him. He glanced back to see Donny sitting up next to Raph examining the latter's plastron. "Is that a…fairy?"

He grinned as he heard Raph's groan. He walked over and grabbed one end of the table, and he and Michelangelo flipped it right-side-up. "What were you thinking, exactly?" he asked with a grin.

Mikey raised his eyebrows, quirking his lips. "Raph needed a little more color in his world?"

"Uh-huh. Those markers really washable?" At this point he was pretty sure the kid's life depended on it.

Mikey's eyes widened, and he cringed. "Man, I hope so."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

That evening, April O'Neil came down their ladder, Ray's Pizza boxes in hand. She set them on the nearby table and grinned at Mikey and Raph playing a video game on the couch. Donny had managed to set up an entertainment system in the couple of weeks they'd had to break in the new lair. Michelangelo's feet were hanging over the back of the old couch as he played the game upside-down. Raph was right-side-up and looked like he was trying to keep from swearing.

"Hey, guys."

"April!" Mikey treated her to a big grin.

"Yo, April. How's it goin'?" Raph shot her a quick glance, but was obviously caught up in the game. "Would you quit cuttin' me off?"

"We like to call that skill."

"And could you quit saying 'we'? It's bad enough I gotta put up with one of you."

"We can't do that."

Raph gripped the controller harder.

April jostled Mikey's foot. "Aren't you going to get a headache playing upside down like that?"

"Only if headaches are a symptom of victory, babe."

Raph snorted. "Don't you hafta have a brain to have a headache?"

"Har-de-har." Mike glanced at his brother. "Big talk for a guy in second place. Boo freaking yah."

Raph simply pulled his leg up and covered Mikey's eyes with his foot, causing much writhing and very loud protests. April giggled and turned to see Donatello coming out of his room, wiping greasy hands on a rag. "Hey, Don."

"April! You're early."

She wrinkled her nose. "Bad early?"

"Like there's such a thing where you're involved. Pull up a chair. Except not that one over there. My brothers went a little WWF this morning. That chair is one of the casualties. Though _somebody_ was supposed to fix it." The last was directed toward the couch.

"I'm a ninja, not a miracle worker!" Mikey called back in a less-than-stellar Bones imitation.

Donny rolled his eyes. "Cute, Mikey."

"That's why they say I'm the real McCoy."

The purple-banded turtle groaned and said to April, "I'm going to stop now. He'll just keep going if I don't stop."

April chuckled, pulling a chair out from the table and turning it around to straddle it. She brushed a strand of red-brown hair out of her eyes. "So. Where are Leo and Splinter?"

"They should be back any time. I think they made a trip back to the old lair to grab some stuff. Now that the Shredder's really gone, we don't have a whole lot to worry about down here. I mean, we're still careful, but it's not like we're seeing Foot ninja around every corner. The paranoia level's definitely down. Well, you know. As down as it ever is for us." He smiled.

She nodded and leaned forward, resting her chin on her crossed arms as she looked at him. "Must be a load off all your minds. Him gone, you guys finally having your answers about where you came from."

"It is," he said sincerely. "It really is." He smiled softly at something only he knew, glancing over at his brothers. Mikey suddenly squealed as Raph caugh him in a headlock, trying to get him to take back some something he'd said. "Raph, if you break him, you gotta fix him," Don called.

"Thought that was your job, egghead."

"Donny's a miracle worker, not a doctor!" Mikey declared, giggling.

Donny shook his head, grinning. April watched Raph nudge the teen up and the two went back to their game, this time both right side up, Mikey's short dark hair sticking up in odd spikes. The young human started running a commentary that annoyed his terrapin brother to no end. April suddenly frowned. "Donny?"

"Yeah?" His brown eyes met her green ones.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Oh. Mikey colored those on while Raph was asleep." She gave him a clueless look. "The cutsie pictures on Raph's chest? And yes, that one on the right side _is_ a mermaid."

"Wait. What cutsie pictures?"

The turtle paused. "Huh. Maybe Raph did manage to wash it all off. Lucky Mike. Probably why he's still alive."

April shook her head. There was a story just begging to be told. "O-kay. Remind me to ask about that later."

"Right. What did you want to ask about at the moment?"

April pressed her lips together and then asked, "What about Mikey?"

He tilted his head and repeated the question. "What _about_ Mikey?"

"I mean, all this with the Shredder, and then about your origins and the ooze and the Foot and Dr. Perry, and I've never really asked. What about him?"

Donny blinked at her across the table. "Well, now you've asked twice, and I'm still not sure what you want to know about him."

"He's your brother."

"Yes."

"And all I've ever heard from him is 'I'm adopted.'"

"Uh, yeah," he said slowly with a silent _Duh_. Donatello either really didn't know where she was going with this or was pretending not to.

"So now we know where you come from. Where did he come from? I mean, it's not like _he_ got washed down a storm drain and landed in a puddle of ooze. So how then? How'd you end up with him?"

"Oh." Don frowned. "Yeah. No…no ooze for him." He sent a look over to his little brother. Michelangelo was obliviously absorbed in competition with Raph. "He, ah, he actually came along a little later than the rest of us."

"How much later?"

"He was around eight at the time. We were about ten."

April's eyes widened slightly. "So what happened?"

Donny shrugged. He seemed…not so much uncomfortable as…unsure. This only increased the curious reporter in her. "I found him."

"You…found him." He nodded. "Where?"

"Down here."

April was having a bit of a time wrapping her mind around this one. "Wait. You found an eight-year-old child down in the sewers and…what? Decided to keep him?"

"Pretty much." Apparently he sensed that wouldn't be enough to satisfy her. "He needed us. We needed him. That's how it happened."

"Well, what about his life before? His parents? His family? He was eight years old. He must've had a life apart from all this. What happened to him?" April sensed she was treading on roads rarely traveled by this family. But she felt like she needed to know.

Donny looked reflective. "Nobody ever came looking for him. No missing child reports. And he never talked about it. Wouldn't even give us his name. What's that tell you?" He didn't wait for an answer. "It doesn't really matter anyway. He's ours now—one of us. Whatever happened before can't change that."

April paused, mind racing to process this new information. For an eight-year-old child, especially Mikey, to refuse to say word one about his past... Don hadn't said much, but the little he had said started painting its own bleak image, and April's imagination began to fill in missing pieces of its own accord--which she didn't like at all. In the news business, the saying went, "A picture's worth a thousand words." In this case, it seemed more like those few words were worth a thousand pictures. She smiled softly at the turtle sitting across from her. "You're right. It can't."

He nodded and bit his lip. "Hey, and don't ask Mikey about it, okay? I mean, not that I think that you'd…well, I think it'd just be better if you didn't, okay?"

"Okay," she said quietly. Don was obviously ready to move on from the subject. It was plain he didn't really like the idea of discussing his little brother's past without his little brother. "You're a good brother, Donny. Mike's a pretty lucky kid."

"Donny, something's wrong with the N64. I mean besides the duct tape and the fact that it's from, like, 1996."

"He's just sayin' that 'cause I kicked his butt. Who's Mario Kart champ now, punk?"

"Dude. Last time I try to win with Bowser. Geeze. But seriously, Donny, it's kinda glitching up. Can you come look at it?"

Donny shot her a smirk that was somehow sweet as he stood up. "Obviously I remind him of that fact daily."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

A couple hours later, the group had already eaten and sat around the living room. Michelangelo had decided it would be a brilliant idea to play charades; so he was currently up in front of the group doing the robot and then jumping up and down pointing to things. Donny had no idea what he was doing. So far nobody else did either. Casey Jones had shown up—about twenty minutes late, to no one's surprise—and he currently sat on the couch, his arm around April.

"Uh, 'Mr. Roboto'?"

Mikey shook his head, his face screaming _Come_ _on_!

"Mm, it's gotta be a movie, not a song," April said.

"Uh, _I, Robot_!"

Still not it. But April patted Casey's arm, apparently thinking it was a good attempt. The two had been getting along pretty well lately. Casey had figured out he should never call April babe or tutz or hotcakes or even princess. And April had figured out she'd have to cut Casey some slack when he acted like an idiot. _Ah, compromise. The cornerstone of romance_. Donny grinned to himself.

Watching Mikey, though, the tech-savvy turtle found his mind wandering, even despite all the noise going on around him. He kept going back to that conversation he'd had with April. Almost without his consent, his mind drifted back to the past, to the little eight-year-old kid he'd stumbled upon way back when. Seemed like a lifetime ago. Really, he counted it as a lifetime ago. The loud, annoying, funny, confident young man standing before him now could hardly be the lost child he'd found then. _But it is, isn't it, little human?_ he thought in the quietest part of his mind.

_Eight Years Earlier_

_"How much longer…were you wanting us to…keep this up, Master Splinter?" Donatello panted as he exhaled to bend his arms yet again. The brothers were in a triangle, each in a push-up position, except their legs were up in the air, feet pressed against the others' so that made sort of a turtle teepee. The lack of stability made it much harder than a regular pushup, and they all had to do each pushup together as one. This would make for…number twenty five. The ten-year-old turtle's arms were starting to shake._

_"Eh, come on, Donny," Raphael said. "You're not gettin' tired yet, are you?" Despite his words, the red-banded turtle was starting to sound drained as well. _

_Their master watched them with a steady gaze. "Remember. You must train yourselves to be able to fight past those voices which name a task impossible. A strong mind is essential to a strong body."_

_"Yes, Sensei," Leonardo answered as they continued, jaw set and eyes bright with concentration and effort. "Come on, guys. We can do this. Keep it up."_

_Donny sent a look to Raph in time to catch his older brother rolling his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk, Leo. Makes all the difference." Donny smirked the slightest bit. Though he was a peacemaker by nature, he sometimes secretly agreed with Raph on that point: sometimes Leo was just a little too gung ho. _

_"Just trying to stay positive," Leo grumbled._

_"We know," Donny put in quickly before Raph could say something…Raphish—which would no doubt lead to some spur-of-the-moment, unauthorized "sparring" which would land them doing flips till New Year's. "That's why we love you." He heard both his brothers snort before they settled back into their rhythm, the exertion making more words seem like too much of an effort._

_"It is enough," Splinter said a short time later, dark reflective eyes flickering with the pride all three of his sons knew how to spot. The three young turtles stood before him sweaty and exhausted and content. "Your skills improve daily, my sons. You do much to make me proud. Now," he gave a slight smile, "I believe there are other things with which you three wish to occupy yourselves, yes?"_

_The turtles looked at each other and grinned. Free time. Finally. "Yes, Master."_

_Their sensei waved them away, eyes still smiling. "Practice is over. Go on."_

_The three bowed and then scattered, Raph letting out a whoop before darting off to grab some weights and settling down in front of the TV for his favorite show. Leo stayed on the floor to run through a few katas. Donny, for his part, grabbed a skateboard, thanked his father, and took off into the tunnels. _

_Donny loved the feeling he got flying through the tunnels, especially after practice. Feeling the normally still air rush by, drying the sweat on his body, cooling him, making him feel free and alive. He zoomed along, using the walls to practice his half-pipe skills where he could, his analytical mind keeping track of every bend and turn in the tunnels. Donatello had a gift for being able to map things out in his head, a talent that really came in handy for a turtle who spent a lot of his time exploring the tunnels of the New York sewer system. _

_For some reason, the young terrapin was feeling especially adventurous on this day. He went left where he'd usually go right, right where he'd usually go left, and rode further than he'd ever gone before. The tech-savvy turtle was totally in the zone._

_But suddenly, Donny's sharp ears picked up an echo of footsteps in the next tunnel. Alarmed, he skidded to a stop. Uh-oh. He could almost hear Master Splinter's voice in his head urging him back to the lair. But Donny couldn't help being curious. He was kind of a scientist, after all. Solving problems and mysteries and stuff was his way._ Hey, I _am_ a ninja_, he thought._ I'll just do this the invisible way. Besides, whoever this is, they're on turtle turf.

_So Donny set his board aside in the shadows and tip-toed forward to see who (or what) had invaded his home. The young turtle peeked around the corner, staying to the shadows. His eyes widened, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from gasping. Instead of the sinister escaped con or axe-murderer or vicious monster his ten-year-old mind expected—or the average human plumber his more logical side thought he'd find—he found something quite different. There was a little boy stumbling along the tunnel. _

_Donny watched with wide eyes, fascinated. He'd never been so close to a human before._ Hmm. What are you doing down here?_ The kid was younger than he was, and thin. Short dark hair, almost black, was sticking up every which way on his head. His face was mostly hidden in shadow. As Donny continued to watch, his gaping mouth gradually closed into a concerned frown. The boy's hand never left the wall—in fact, it looked like he was using it to hold himself up. He was limping, his other arm wrapped protectively around his rib cage. And his breathing—it sounded…wrong. Too short and shallow. Donny knew what it was. This little human was in pain._

_The turtle continued to watch the young stranger, wondering what he should do. What _could_ he do? He wasn't supposed to have any contact with humans, and besides, even if he did try to help the poor kid, he'd probably just wind up scaring him. But as he watched, the little boy stopped and stumbled forward a bit before catching himself and pausing again. Then Donny watched in horror as the little kid let out a tiny whimper before slumping forward. He hit the concrete with barely a sound. He didn't move._

_Donny's heart was pounding. Was the little guy…? He looked back down the tunnel he'd come from. Shook his head. He knew before the thought was even formed that he couldn't just leave the poor creature here. Looking both ways, wary of any more humans, he cautiously stepped from the shadows and approached the prone form. He at lest had to check the young stranger's vitals. As he knelt by the small, still body, he couldn't help thinking,_ This is so insane_. He gently turned the boy over. _

_Donny bit his lip as he took in the black eyes and cut lip. The little human hadn't just _gotten_ hurt. Someone had _hurt_ him. The young turtle had dealt with countless such injuries sparring with his brothers, but never all at once. The turtles never aimed to hurt each other. Donny looked at the boy's hands. The first two knuckles on both hands were scraped and bruised. "You fought back pretty hard, didn't you, little human," he whispered. He checked the unconscious boy's pulse, relieved to find it strong. He felt arms and legs for broken bones, finding none, though he was no doctor. Feeling along the boy's scalp, he found a large, raised lump at the back of his skull. "This would do it, huh?" he said to the unconscious child. Then he remembered the way the boy had had his arm glued to his side. _

_Carefully, Donny tugged up the orange fabric of a dirty, long-sleeved t-shirt. He nearly cried out. The little boy's torso was riddled with bruising, old and new. The colors wove all about his chest and ribs and wound around to the back. It was horrifying. Donny had to take several deep breaths as stinging tears burned his eyes. "Oh, little human," he breathed. "Who did this to you?" Predictably there was no response. Donny sighed, looking at the child's face. He remembered all of Splinter's warnings about getting involved with humans. He respected them. But it was hard to imagine this beaten, vulnerable kid as dangerous. And Donny couldn't help the compassion and protectiveness that flared up as he looked at the human boy. He made up his mind. "Well, listen," he said, determined. "They're not going to do it to you again, okay? I'm gonna make sure of it."_

_With that, Donny picked up his new burden as gently as he could. The little boy let out a small whimper, but didn't wake. "Shh. Easy. Easy." The little guy wasn't very heavy; certainly, Donny thought, not as heavy as he _should've_ been. But it was a long way home. Don wondered briefly if he could maybe use his skateboard to push the boy back home. He dismissed the idea. The board was too short, and he didn't want to risk jostling the kid around too much. He'd just have to carry him. He could make it. He looked down the tunnel, the map in his head telling him just how far it was. He set his jaw. "I can make it."_

"_Short Circuit_!"

Six heads swiveled around at the accented voice from the Japanese rat.

"Yes! That's it!" Mikey cried, arms raised up in the air in victory. "Master Splinter, you got it! How'd you know that?"

"Process of elimination, my son," Splinter answered, eyes sparkling. "I believe Casey Jones has named every other film ever created."

Casey tried to look offended while everybody laughed at the rat's often unexpected sense of humor. "Hey, who remembers that movie, anyway, right?" Mikey threw a plastic cup at him. "Geeze."

"Okay, you go, Master Splinter. You're up," Leo said from his spot on the floor leaning back against the armchair Raph was sitting in.

"Totally, Sensei! Go for it!" Mikey said, settling down against the couch next to Don's legs.

The ninja master somewhat reluctantly stood. He pressed his palms together before opening them.

"'s a book," Raph called.

"Aw, crap, it's a book," Mikey echoed.

_Donny finally plodded into the lair carrying his unconscious charge. His brothers and Master Splinter were nowhere in sight, which he thought was just as well. He was shaking slightly with muscle fatigue, and he was soaked with sweat. But he'd made it. He'd done it._

_He slowly lowered his fragile cargo to the old, worn couch, sinking to his knees in front of it. He let out a deep breath and grinned. "See? I told you we'd make it." He laughed a little. "And you thought it was impossible."_

_"Donatello?" The sharp voice behind him made Donny jump, and he spun around._

_"Master Splinter…"_

_Splinter stepped further into the room. "Donatello," the ninja master actually sounded...shocked—something Donny had never heard from him before. "What have you done, my son?"_

_"This little human," Donny quickly tried to explain. "He's hurt. Maybe bad. I need to…"_

_"Then it is for his own kind to heal him. Those who love him will be looking for him. We must take him back…"_

_"It was his own kind who hurt him!" Donny refused to sound repentant. "I have to help him. Please."_

_Splinter blinked. Then he shook his head. "It is too dangerous, my son."_

_"This one's not dangerous." Donny wasn't exactly sure how he knew that, but he was certain. "Please Master Splinter, help me. I'll take him somewhere else if I have to, but I can't take him back to whoever did this to him. _That_ would be too dangerous. Look at him! He's just a little kid."_

_His master was silent for what felt like ages. Then he asked quietly, "What has happened to him?"_

_Donny frowned. "I don't know the details. But all these bruises tell their own story. Come see." He lifted the little human's shirt once again, hearing his master's quiet sound of despair from behind him. _

_"Poor child." _

_Donny's eyes ghosted over the injuries he'd already mapped out in his head. "Please, Father," he begged quietly. "Please help me help him."_

_Splinter stood up straighter, looking Donny in the eye. "The medical supplies. Get them."_

_Donny flashed a grateful smile and stood despite protests from his abused leg muscles. "Thank you, Master." With that, he ran off to fetch the first aid kit._

"The _Ask a Ninja: Ninja Handbook_?"

"Yes!"

"Hah!" Mikey shot up from the floor, grinning.

Leo shook his head. "You've gotta be kidding me. Are you serious, Master Splinter?"

"I found the title intriguing. Then I read the book."

"And?"

"Wished that I had not," Splinter said straight-faced.

Mikey shook his head. "Come on, you know it's hilarious. And that's right, ladies and gentlemen. For the record, I guessed the _book_."

"Oh, brother. Mikey, you're up again."

_It was late. Donny wasn't sure what time it was, but he knew it was late. Raph and Leo had gone to bed awhile ago after the initial shock of having a human being in their lair had worn off. Leo had mostly been amazed, coupled with that natural wariness—_paranoia_, Donny thought stubbornly—of his. And Raph…it was kind of hard to tell with Raph. He was kind of mad. But not just mad. In fact, he almost seemed annoyed, but then, sometimes that's just how Raph was._

_Donny felt his eyelids getting heavier as he kept up his vigil by the side of the turtles' new guest. The lights in the lair had been turned down, and the room was pretty dark. Donny was so tired. He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes for a minute. Just for a minute…_

_"Please, don't. I won't…I'll do it right. Please." _

_Donny's eyes snapped open at the soft murmurs. It took a second for him to remember exactly where he was and what he was doing there. The words came from the young stranger. It was the first time Donny had ever heard his voice. He leaned forward. "You awake, little human?"_

_The little boy sucked in a sharp breath, and Donny saw him flinch away. "No, don't! Please. I'm sorry!"_

_"I'll take that as a no." Donny reached out as the boy appeared to get more upset. He shook the boy's shoulder gently, aware of the many bruises. "Hey, come on. You're almost there. It's okay. Wake up."_

_The boy vaulted up with a short, soft cry. He was breathing hard and shaking, his head turning every which way, trying to figure out where he was, eyes unused to the darkness._

_"Hey. Easy. Easy. You're okay."_

_The kid flinched away from Donny's voice, backing up to the furthest end of the couch. "Where am I?" he asked quietly. Donny could tell the poor kid was scared out of his mind, but he was impressed by the way the little boy was able to keep his voice under control. He'd expected tears from a child this young._

_"Underground. In the sewers. I found you right before you passed out. I was kind of wandering what you were doing down here. When I saw you were hurt, I brought you to my home. You've got nothing to worry about here. I promise." _

_"Who are you?" The voice was quiet, hesitant, like he half-expected to be punished for asking or told to shut up._

_Donny smiled, even though he knew the kid couldn't see him. "My name's Donatello. You can call me Donny, though." He put as much reassurance as he could into the words. "How about you? You got a name?"_

_The little guy was quiet for a long moment before shaking his head. "I, um…I can't remember."_

_"You can't remember your name?"_

_"Uh-uh," he insisted in that voice that never rose above a whisper. "I got…um…when you can't remember…?"_

_"Amnesia?"_

_"Yeah. See? Forgot what it was called." The boy fidgeted anxiously, straining his eyes to see in the darkness._

_Donny frowned. "Do you know where you're from?"_

_"No." This answer came immediately, almost panicked. "No. I don't…don't know. Sorry. I'll just…I'll leave. Sorry." He moved to stand up, apparently set on leaving despite the fact he couldn't see, but Donny caught his arm._

_"Hold it." The little boy flinched and ducked his head in anticipation of the expected blow. And Donny knew. This kid didn't have some kind of amnesia. His memory was fine. The little guy was just smart. Smart and scared. He knew if he didn't give his name or where he was from, he couldn't get sent back to…whoever it was he was running from. "Take it easy, little human," Donny soothed. "I don't think moving around's a real good idea for you right now."_

_"What do you want?" the boy whispered._

_"I just want to help you. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."_

_The boy took a deep breath, muscles tightening as he worked up the courage to say, "I don't believe you."_

_Donny blinked. "Why not?"_

_"I just don't."_

_"Don't trust people, huh?" He could relate. Not trusting people was kind of a rule where he came from._

_"No. 'Specially people I can't see."_

_The kid really seemed to be expecting a fight, which made Donny sad. "Well, then you're kind of in luck."_

_"Why?"_

_"Umm…Well, I'm not exactly your average…person." Boy, was that an understatement._

_The kid sat back with the wide eyes of a very bright, very imaginative little boy. "You called me 'little human.' You home's in the…sewer?" he squinted at Donny in the darkness. "How…How 'not average' are you?"_

_Donny reached a three-fingered hand toward the side table lamp. "Okay. I'm going to turn on the light. Just…don't wig out. I won't hurt you or anything."_

_The boy nodded quietly._

_"Okay." He flicked the switch. _Click_. Then he looked back to see the little boy staring at him with huge, unblinking eyes, his shoulders pulled up to his ears as his breath caught in the back of his throat. _

_"Whoa," he whispered. Donny tried on a smile. The boy's tense shoulders lowered just slightly as he blinked giant blue eyes. "You're a alien, aren't you?" he said in wonder._

_"Ah, no." Don quickly shot that down._

_"Monster?"_

_"I don't really believe in monsters. So no. I'm a…turtle, actually."_

_The kid nodded slowly, mouth hanging open. To Donny's relief, he seemed way more stunned than frightened. "So is this…is this like what happens when people flush their pets down the toilet?"_

_Donny couldn't help it. He laughed. He thought he saw the ghost of a smile touch the little boy's lips, but it was gone before the turtle could be sure. "Not usually. So yeah. Here I am. In all my…reptilian glory, I guess. So now that you can actually see me, and you're not, you know, screaming or anything, I kind of feel like I should introduce myself again. I'm Donny." He held out a large hand. The boy looked at it nervously for a moment as though considering it might be a trap. He either decided to risk it or saw no point in trying to resist, because he slowly reached out and placed his smaller hand in Donny's._

_"Good to meet you, Donny," he said shyly._

_"Nice to meet you…uh. Think you can give me a name yet?" Donny really hoped he would. He couldn't deny that he was thrilled his new human friend seemed to be taking this so well—probably way better than most adults would, Donny guessed. But then, a kid's mind would probably be way more open to this kind of thing._ Thank goodness for cartoons_, he thought wryly._

_The boy dropped his gaze, uncomfortably pulling his hand from Donny's grasp. "I told you. I got amnesia," he said, sticking to his original story. "Remember?" He winced._

_Donny held in a sigh and summoned a smile. "That's right. Sorry."_

_"Me, too." The little stranger looked off for a moment. Then his eyes were back on Donny. "Were you always a turtle?"_

_"Mm-hm, of course. All my life."_

_"How old are you?"_

_"Ten."_

_"Is that in…people years?"_

_Donny grinned. "Yeah, in people years. What about you? How old are you?"_

_"I don't know. Probably older than that, though, if I had to guess."_

_"Uh-huh." Donny didn't believe that for a minute. The little guy looked seven. Maybe eight._

_"Are there more like you?"_

_"I have two brothers who live here with me. And our father is a rat."_

_"A rat?" The kid's eyes widened in awed curiosity as he tried to figure out how that was possible. "What's your _mom_?"_

_"We're adopted," Donny assured him, smothering a grin. "You can meet the guys in the morning." The boy looked a little nervous at the idea. "Hey, don't worry about it. I bet they can't wait to meet you. My brothers have never met a real human before."_

_"Oh. Well, I never met a real bunch of giant talking turtles before."_

_"You sure?" Donny couldn't resist. "I thought you couldn't remember anything."_

_The boy barely batted an eye. "Just 'cause I got amnesia doesn't mean I'm stupid." He started to cross his arms before realizing that was a lousy idea. "'Sides, I don't care what kinda bump on the head I get. I think I'd still remember you."_

_Donny grinned. The boy ducked his head, and Donny was sure he caught a tiny shy smile. When the kid's eyes weren't so full of fear, they sort of sparkled with humor and mischief. Donny liked this spirited young human. "Back at you, little human," he chuckled. "Back at you."_

Donny looked up as April shouted right next to him, "Donatello!" He jumped. Then he realized she wasn't talking to him. She was shouting to Mikey, who'd been bouncing around pretending to fix things and rubbing his chin a lot like he was deep in thought. "It's Donny, right?"

"Right-o! Go April!" Mikey held out a hand and pulled the woman to her feet for her turn, and then he flopped down on the couch between Don and Casey. He looked at his brother. "Pretty good, huh? Like looking in a mirror."

"You'll notice I'm not the one who guessed that was supposed to be me."

Mikey grinned. "Yeah, 'cause you were busy spacing out, which is how April knew it was you. Whatcha thinking about, brainiac? Or do I not wanna know?"

Donny smiled at his little brother, seeing how easy the kid could smile, how he met Donny's eyes without a trace of fear. "Big, important things."

"Ah. So me, huh?" Mikey nodded with a fake superior look of self-importance.

Don rolled his eyes, letting his voice come out sarcastic. "What else?"

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_"…that many citizens have reported increased gang activity along the city's south side. Police have made comments assuring they're doing everything they can, and they believe these incidents of violence are isolated from the recent scare. However, many suspect a turf war between two rival gangs that police claim do not exist."_

_"Yeah, I saw most of the fight. Well, what I could see of it. These guys weren't messing around, either. There were bodies there last night that weren't there this morning. Apparently they got their own clean-up crew. And it wasn't just guns. I swear some of 'em had…swords."_

_"No one has yet been able to identify with any kind of certainty exactly _who _these gangmembers are, but..."_

Raphael watched the glowing screen, volume turned so low he could just barely hear the words. The news lady wasn't as pretty as April, but her story had immediately grabbed the turtle's attention. His hands moved automatically to the place where his sai would've been had he been wearing his belt. _What's goin' on now?_

He looked up as a bare-footed, sleep-rumpled Mikey made his way around the sofa. The light from the screen reflected off shiny blue eyes as the teen sank down next to Raph, elbows resting on knees.

"Y'okay?"

"Fine. What's on?" Mikey asked like it wasn't one in the morning.

Raph watched his little brother. "Nothin' good."

The image on the TV cut to a dark, shaky home-video shot of a street battle. It was all noise and chaos as there was gunfire and whoever was holding the camera was running for his life, but they could just make out the blurred lines of black uniforms and the glint of steel. Raph shook his head, voice coming out in a low growl. "The Foot."

Mikey nodded once, eyes glued to the screen. "Not just them. Look who they're fighting."

Raph leaned forward, shook his head. "I can't…"

Mike pointed. "That guy right there's not Foot. He's a member of the Proud Tide."

"The Proud Tide?" Raph looked where his brother was pointing, and sure enough, caught a flash of red—the armband that showed an image of a coat of arms with two pistols crossed in the center—the signature of the gang. They'd clashed with these guys before, always from the shadows. It was a pretty tight organization, but it didn't have the numbers or the reach of the Foot. "Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me. Since when is there bad blood between the Foot and the Proud Tide?"

"Since pretty much always. They're just usually not so public about it."

"How do you know that?"

Mikey glanced at him. "Word on the street, bro. Gotta keep your ear to the ground and all that. Basic ninja stuff."

"Whatever. Feel like goin' topside? See if we can't get a little look-see?"

"If I don't are you gonna go all Lone Ranger on me?"

"Absolutely." Mikey just sent him a look he must've borrowed from Leo. "Look, I just wanna get an eye for the city. Get a little recon going. We'll stick to the rooftops. Run around some. It'll be fun." Honestly, he hoped Mike would come along. A) The kid had a habit of making things interesting—when he wasn't being annoying, and B) It was Raph's night, and he wouldn't feel right about leaving Mikey alone. Stupid guilt trips.

Mikey sighed. "Fine. Just let me get my stuff, kemosabe." The kid was wearing the Three Stooges lounge pants April had bought him. Not exactly conducive to his health considering the crisp NYC night air.

Raph clicked off the tube and crept to his own room to grab his weapons and mask. Something weird was going on in his town. As he and Mikey stole up the ladder and into the never-quiet New York City night, Raph thought he felt something tug at his gut. As he raced Mikey across the rooftops, it took him a few minutes to figure out what it was. He had a bad feeling about this. Weird. That was definitely more of a Leo thing—the paranoia. But he slowed to a stop. Mikey noticed and ran back to him. The kid was wearing jeans and a light jacket zipped against the chilly air. His dull orange ninja hood was pulled over his head, showing only the strip of skin around those smiley blue eyes.

"What? Change your mind already? Or are you having a little trouble keeping up?" Those dang, irritating smiley blue eyes. "Told you you shouldn't've had that sixth slice of pizza." He knocked on Raph's stomach. "That built-in girdle of yours can only hold so much." He raised his eyebrows and waited a beat.

Raph couldn't help but respond to the playful challenge glinting in those eyes, and he took off after the speedy young ninja. As he ran and flipped and swung and jumped, he told himself he was being kind of an idiot. But still, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that was balling itself up in his stomach. Something wasn't right. So he did what made sense: he ignored it.

___

A/N: And so it begins, huh? This is probably going to be my least actiony chapter of all. Sorry. Had to be done to start explaining the backstory. If you like, check back in for Act II in a couple days. Much more action in there, methinks. Hope you enjoyed. Bless ya.


	2. Losing It

A/N: ChibiLover123, remind me to send you a tub of sugar cookie dough. And Paranoidman, you're...the man; glad you're liking it so far. Thanks for the reviews, guys.

Disclaimer: Psh. Can you prove that I _don't _own them? No? Well, then I'll just go ahead and admit it. Morosely.

Act 2

The brothers spent awhile skipping around town, people-watching and playing tag and follow the leader, and generally enjoying the lights and the noise and the fresh-ish air to be found above ground. Raph was purposefully steering them toward the south side of the city, and he was pretty sure his little brother knew as much. But Mikey didn't say anything about it. And even if he had, it wouldn't have changed anything—which, come to think of it, is probably why he didn't.

Something down below caught Raph's eye as he ran, and the red-banded turtle stopped short. Mikey had been following behind, matching his moves, and had to slam on the breaks, narrowly avoiding plowing into the turtle.

"Raph!" Mikey whined, panting behind the mask. "Give a guy a heads up or some…"

"Sh," Raph cut him off shortly, backing up silently and peering over the edge of the old brick building. "Thought I saw somethin'." On the opposite side of the street, there was a small sudden movement. Raph pointed. "There."

Mikey squinted in the darkness next to him. Just then, a man seemed to materialize from the shadows in front of a liquor store that had been closed up for the night. A brief moment of fiddling with the lock, and the door was quietly opened, the man slipping inside, four more joining him from the shadows. The Foot. "Dude. How'd you see them from up here?" He gave his brother a skeptical once-over. "You sure you're not part eagle or something? Next mission, your code name is Eagle Eye. It would be Hawk Eye, but that'll just make everyone think of _M*A*S*H_…"

"Bro," Raph cut him off. He knocked himself in the head, gesturing at the building across the way. "They're knocking over a _liquor_ _store_? Really? How desperate do ya gotta be?"

"Well, we did kinda clean them out. Twice. Plus, that Tatsu clown's probably their leader by now, and I heard he's kind of a...you know…" He pantomimed a drunk Tatsu with a bottle in his hand.

"You're makin' that up."

"Am I, Raph? Am I?" He clearly was.

"I don't know about you, but I could use a little workout." Raph edged closer to the side of the building. "There's five guys in there. Barely a warm-up."

"Whatever happened to sticking to the rooftops?"

"New plan, Tonto."

Mikey stood closer, whispering, "Raph, can you spell _bad_ _idea_?"

"Can you spell _shut_ _up_?"

"S-h-u…ow!" Mikey rubbed the back of his freshly-thumped head. "Raph, like you said, there's five. We should let the cops handle it. Dudes get paid for a reason, you know. And Leo and Donny don't even know where we are. These guys are always popping out of the woodwork like roaches. Or…termites. Whatever. What if there's more…"

"We'll be fine. These guys need to know we ain't lettin' our guard down. And how exactly you gonna call the police?"

Mikey took hold of Raph's jaw and wordlessly turned it to face the payphone at the end of the street. "I take back what I said about you being part eagle."

Raph shook off Mike's hand. "By the time the cops get here, these guys'll be long gone. That what you want?"

Mikey gave a grudging "No."

"So what gives?" Mikey wasn't typically the type to back off of any kind of possible excitement.

"Nothing. I just…I don't know. It feels..." Mikey trailed off, looking like he was going to say something but decided against it. The way he shifted from one foot to the other, though, brought Raph back to his own feelings of uneasiness. Kid shrugged it off. "All right, fine. You wanna be the sit-in leader? What's the plan, mon capitan?" Mikey blinked at him.

Raph shoved his feelings aside again. He gave a thin smile. "I think I got it."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Mikey slid down the fire escape and made his way to the payphone as loudly as possible, all grins and whistles. He punched in 9-1-1, let it ring. As soon as they answered, he said, making no effort to lower his voice, "Hey, yeah, there's some ninja types robbing Chet's Liquor down on Keystone. They got the masks and everything, like those League of Shadows guys in _Batman Begins._ You should send some cars. You know, police cars. With like police in 'em. You guys work this late, right? What do you mean you haven't seen _Batman Begins_? Everybody's seen...well, look dude, you should probably hurry, 'cause that's the thing about ninjas; they're all here one minute, and then you turn around twice and…"

Mikey dodged just in time to avoid a fist that went crashing into the payphone. The black-masked ninja-wannabe reeled back, clutching his knuckles in pain. Mikey put his mouth back to the phone. "So yeah, you'll be here in five?" Then he swung the receiver, hearing the dull clunk as it connected with the bridge of his foe's nose. "Dude, if you wanna use the phone, form a line, you know?" His assailant growled and threw himself forward, an attack Mikey easily countered with a spinning back kick that knocked the man flat. He looked up to see Raph engaged with two of the ninja. The other two were walking toward Mikey, their movements slow and calculated. Mikey pulled his nun chucks from his belt and set them to spinning. "For the record, this was all _his_ idea." He grinned. "I'm just the decoy." The two attacked.

"Hey, Mikey!"

Mikey didn't look over as he blocked and returned a punch. He didn't need to. "Yeah, Raph?"

"Did you get through okay?"

He dodged a vicious kick and konked one of them with his chucks. Laid the guy out. "Oh, you know how it is. Had to put me on hold for two or three minutes, didn't even play any good music."

"That's public service for ya."

"True that."

"When they comin'?"

"Lady said two shakes. Possibly two and a half."

The last guy was backing off toward the alley. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder—the money, Mikey presumed—and he held a katana in each hand. As he stepped beneath the light of a streetlamp, the glow illuminated the smears of red along the smooth metal blades. Mikey stopped for a moment. Blood. Not his blood. Not Raph's. Then whose…? He looked up and down the street, memories ghosting through the back of his mind, only tangible enough to raise goose bumps on his arms. There was an apartment on the second level of the liquor store. _This wasn't a robbery_, he realized. _This was an assassination_.

The man eyeing him through a black mask suddenly turned and took off running, leaping onto a nearby fire escape and flipping over onto the roof.

"Oh no you don't." Mikey tore after him. The guy had sheathed his swords, and was now bounding from rooftop to rooftop. "I was never too good at follow the leader," he said as he gained on the man. "I was always way better at tag!" He pushed off the ledge of an old brick office building, lengthening his body, eyes only on his target, until he hit, using all his body weight plus the momentum to knock the Foot soldier off his feet. The two humans skidded across the rooftop, gravel tearing at them, until coming to a stop in front of the raised ledge of the six-story building. "All right, dude. A little Q and A. Who'd you hit, and who ordered it?"

"I have nothing to say to you," the man snarled. "You betray your own kind!"

Mikey could hear the sirens in the distance. "'My own kind'? Seriously? Dude, you're the guy with the blood on his sword. I'm assuming whoever you just killed was human. Tell me what's going on with you and the Proud Tide. You just take out one of theirs?"

"They cannot defeat us. We are invincible. As you will soon find." Kind of a cackley voice. Erie.

Mikey blinked. This guy was cracked. Like, more than the Foot usually were. "O-kay. Someone had his crazy juice this morning. Part of this mentally imbalanced breakfast, right?"

The guy moved suddenly, and Mikey had to duck a fistful of sand and gravel hurled at his face. The guy caught him with a cheap shot to the solar plexus. Mikey gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, and the man in black shoved him off and did a back handspring to land on the ledge of the dilapidated building. The Foot's aim was inches off, and his toes landed on the very edge of the brick, which wouldn't have been so bad if the force of his landing hadn't knocked pieces of crumbling brick loose. The dark ninja started to fall.

Wheezing, Mikey jumped up, grabbing one of the man's pinwheeling arms. He braced both feet against the ledge and leaned back, letting his legs take most of the weight as the man's fall was cut short. The Foot ninja was now hanging over the ledge, feet dangling in the air, attached to the building only by Michelangelo's hands.

"Mayday, Mayday. Dude, pull up!" Mikey yelled through his teeth. The featureless, masked face seemed to zero in on him for a moment before the Foot ninja's free hand shot out and clamped onto Michelangelo's wrist.

"I am invincible," the man whispered. "Like my master." With that, he brought his legs up, feet pressing against the outside of the building. And he pulled.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

It was kind of like a dream. One of those horrible, frustrating, terrifying dreams where you're running as fast as you can, but it feels like you're underwater because everything is moving so slow and blurry. Raphael hated those kinds of dreams. Hated it a thousand times more when it was no dream.

After taking care of his share of the Foot, Raph had piled them up for the cops and gone after his brother. What he saw in the distance made his heart freeze in his chest. Mikey, feet braced, hands gripping tight to a dangling Foot ninja. The bad feeling in his gut erupted, and he put on a burst of speed, praying he'd get there in time as the black ninja grabbed his little brother's wrist and moved to send them both over the edge. _I gotta make it. I gotta make it!_

"Mikey!"

There was nothing the kid could do to avoid it. His arms were pulled over the ledge, followed by his head, chest, legs. Raph let out a yell as he sprinted those last few feet and dove. The turtle only just managed to grab hold of Mikey's foot as it disappeared over the edge of the building. He tightened his hold. Braced himself.

The sudden snap of all that weight coming down, threw Raph against the ledge, but he held tight, arms extended over the drop. The arc of their fall had caused Mikey to slam into the side of the building, and with that dang ninja still holding onto his hands, there was nothing the teen could do to protect himself. Raph heard the sickening thud of his little brother's head connecting with brick. The kid didn't move.

Raph breathed, muscles straining, and glared down at the ninja still hanging onto Mikey's hand and wrist. "Let go 'a him!" he yelled. "It'll be a lot easier way to go, pal, believe me! Let go of him now!"

The ninja peered up at him through that stupid, shadowy mask. He seemed to catch on the glint of metal hanging down from around the unconscious teen's neck. Without words, the ninja kicked off the wall and started to swing. Side to side.

"Hey!" Raph ground out as his arms protested. There was nothing he could do but hang on. He started seeing red. "Knock it off, you sick…"

The Foot soldier released the kid, using his momentum to carry him to the fire escape landing below and to his right. His hands caught the metal rail, and he pulled himself up. Then, turning back to Raph, he held up a familiar antique pendant hanging from a chain. Mikey's necklace. Raph could feel the man smiling at him. The turtle felt his teeth grind together, the blood going hot in his veins. _That twisted... _"I'll be waitin' for the day, pal," he said lowly, knowing the guy probably couldn't hear the words but would understand the sentiment. "You an' I are gonna finish this real soon."

The man flipped silently down the fire escape and disappeared into the night. Carefully, Raph pulled up the still body of his brother, laying him out on top of the roof. He pulled off the orange mask, not failing to notice the red staining it. He felt anger and guilt swirl up inside him, and he wanted nothing more to find that guy and pound the life out of him. _Later_. _Bet_. He had to concentrate on right now, and right now, his first priority was an unconscious Michelangelo. The kid had a cut just above his temple. It was bleeding. Raph swore quietly. He balled the orange material up and pressed it to the wound. "I know. You hate it when your mask gets all bloody and gross. Tough. You're gonna have to wake up and whine about it." The cut didn't seem deep, but head wounds bled a lot, and Raph didn't like it that his brother wasn't waking up. He took off his red mask and tied the make-shift bandage to his little brother's head. He needed to get Mikey home. This was Donny's department, not his. "Okay, Tonto. Let's get you up." More guilt. He lifted the teen, resting Mikey's head in the crook of his neck, trying to keep the kid as immobile as possible. He sighed as the wind picked up. "Hi ho Silver, right?"

_Ten-year-old Raphael plodded into the common room next to Leo, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He stopped short at the pair of blue eyes staring at them over the back of the couch. Raph's eyes immediately narrowed. So it wasn't just some nightmare. Donny really had brought some human in last night. And the human was still there. In his home. "What are you looking at?" he grumbled. The kid flinched a little, and Raph felt Leo's elbow embed itself into his side. Raph just grunted._

_"Um, hi," Leo offered._

_"You're not Donny," the kid said quietly._

_"Gee, what gave us away?"Raph rolled his eyes. Human boy was obviously some kinda moron. He caught Leo glaring at him. "What?"_

_"I'm Leonardo," the blue-banded turtle introduced himself, still shooting Raph looks. "You can call me Leo if you want to. My brothers do." When it became obvious Raph wasn't about to say anything like that to the topsider, Leo jumped back in with "And this is my brother Raphael. You can call him…"_

_"Raphael," Raph cut in sharply, crossing his arms, sending the little intruder a glare that no idiot could ever mistake as friendly. He wasn't about to buddy up to some spoiled human brat._

_Leo, apparently though, was feeling all diplomatic, and he turned to Raph with that cursed superior tone of his. "Raph…"_

_"What? No need to get too familiar, right? Ain't like he's gonna be stickin' around long enough to…"_

_"Quit acting like a jerk." Leo leveled a severe look at his fellow turtle before turning on a smile for their uninvited guest. "And how about you? What's your name?"_

_The little guy looked away, opening his mouth, looking pretty unsure of what would come out, when Donny suddenly showed up out of nowhere._

_"He…ah…he's got amnesia," the purple-masked turtle said, appearing in the kitchen entryway. "No name. Yet."_

_Raphael shrugged. "I can think of a few names…"_

_"Raph. Will you shut up?" Leo said sharply. Eyes clearly telegraphing,_ What's wrong with you?

_Raphael merely shrugged, not repentant in the least._

_"Guys, breakfast's ready," Donny said, looking from person to turtle to turtle._

_Leo looked back at the boy as he walked to the kitchen. "It was nice to meet you." Raph snorted as he followed. As soon as they were out of earshot, Leo whirled on his brother, vocalizing what Raph could tell he'd been thinking back there. "What the heck is wrong with you?"_

_"Ain't nothing wrong with me," Raph said as he shouldered past. "What's wrong with you?"_

_"Raph, he's a little kid. Why are you acting like such a…"_

_"Yeah. A little human kid. I can't even believe Master Splinter let him in here at all, but now you're fawnin' all over him like this is the best idea in the world. So it never occurred to you that he's the freakin' reason we all gotta live down here in the first place?"_

_Leo flung his arms out, straining to keep his voice quiet. "What are you talking about? He's like seven!"_

_"All he's gotta do is tell one person, Leo. One. And we're through. You trust him enough to bet all our friggin' lives on it? This is a bad idea. The sooner we boot the kid outta here, the better."_

_Before Leo could say anything, Master Splinter walked into the room. "Good morning, my sons."_

_"Good morning, Sensei," they both answered, eyes never leaving the other's as they sat across the table from each other. Raph didn't care what Leo said or what he thought. Humans were all the same. None of 'em cared that his family had to live in the sewers all the time and live off what they could find. None of 'em cared that all the Hamato clan could ever have was whatever humans threw away. None of 'em cared that they had to hide and worry always that some human might find out who and what they were one day and tear their family apart. Didn't Splinter always say how the humans could never understand? How the turtles couldn't belong above._ Well, it goes both ways_, he knew._ None of them belong down here. This place is ours._ No human was ever gonna change that, and Raph, for one, was going to make sure nobody ever tried._

Raph picked his way through tunnels he knew like the back of his hand. He would have just stuck to the rooftops—it was faster—but the wind had really picked up, and it was the swirling kind that seemed to always blow right in your eyes no matter which way you were facing. Besides that, he didn't want to risk taking some of the jumps that would've been necessary with the cargo he was currently carrying. He finally came to the place and lifted the sturdy, water-proofed trapdoor Donny had put in. He shifted Mikey up higher on his shoulder and stepped down the ladder, pulling the door shut over him. He grunted. "You know, you could wake up at any time and give me a hand, lil' bro." No answer. He picked his way down the ladder, quiet and careful, and shifted Mikey in his arms as he all but jogged to Donny's room. He slid the door open and stepped inside. "Donny, get up."

Donny's eyes opened. "Wha…?"

"Get up and get the lights. Mikey's hurt."

"_What_?" That got him up. He threw back his blanket, swinging his legs over the side of the bed as he switched on the lamp at his bedside. He saw Mikey's prone form and quickly stood so Raph could set the boy down on the bed. "How bad?"

"That's what I'm s'posed to ask you," Raph answered as he laid Mike down.

"What happened, and how long has he been unconscious?"

"About fifteen or twenty minutes. He got hit on the head."

"With what?"

"Uh…building, actually."

Donny gave a quiet huff as he eased back the blood-stained cloth from Mikey's wound. "I don't want to know. Well, scratch that, yes I do. You're going to tell me. Just not right now." He examined the cut. "Looks like it stopped bleeding. Grab me that kit over there. Third drawer."

Raph turned. There was a desk, a couple file cabinets, and a dresser, all with drawers full of…only Don knew what. "You're gonna hafta be a little more specific."

"Left file cabinet."

"Of course. Perfect place to keep a first aid kit." He grabbed it and brought it over, hating how he felt so nervous. He knew Mike was going to be fine. It was just that he was currently helpless to do anything for him really. And that always made him nervous.

Donny took out the peroxide and quickly began cleaning the cut. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

"Not that I could see."

Donny glanced up briefly and gave one of those short Donny-smiles. "I was talking about you, tough guy."

Raph blinked. Was he injured? He supposed it was possible. Since he saw his littlest brother nearly take a header off a six story building, he'd been a little preoccupied. But then Donny could always think of a hundred things at once. Raph looked down at himself. Everything seemed in order. Couple of nasty scrapes and bruises on his arms from being tugged across that ledge. But no biggie. "Nah. I'm good. I came in walkin', didn't I? Just wake him up."

Donny finished dressing the cut and clicked on a penlight to check Mikey's pupils. "Working on it. He's got a minor concussion, looks like. Should wake up soon."

Raph let out a small breath. It was his fault Mikey had been hurt in the first place; there was no getting around that. He wouldn't be able to breathe a real sigh of relief until he got a glimpse of those baby blues, but if Donny said he'd be okay, he would. Raph would just have to tuck the guilt away for later when he got his hands on that piece of garbage Foot…

"Raph." There was a note of what was almost a warning in his younger brother's voice. Don was looking at Mikey's arm—the finger-shaped bruises wrapped around his wrist to be exact. "I'm counting five fingers here. Not three."

Raph realized what his brother must've thought. Don had probably figured they were messing around topside—something they were kind of known for doing—and Mikey had had an accident. It had happened to all of them at one point or another. But if Raph had grabbed Mikey to keep him from falling, the bruises would definitely have looked a little different. "Yeah. _My_ hands were on his ankles."

"So you guys got in a _fight_? With who?"

"Foot."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"'s what I said."

"So what happened?"

Raph waved him away. Now that he knew that Mikey would be fine, the fact he'd come so close to not making it on time was starting to catch up. He really wanted to go hit something. Someone. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

Donny drew his brow together in annoyance. "It kind of _is_ tomorrow."

Raph shook his head. "Whatever. Later. When did you say he's gonna wake up?"

"Any time now. If he's not conscious in fifteen minutes, I'm going to call April to take him to the hospital just in case."

A groan from Donny's patient let them know that wouldn't be necessary. Raph grinned a little. Mikey _would_ wake up just to avoid a trip to the hospital. Mikey's eyes fluttered and opened. He quickly squeezed them shut again and brought his hand up to his head. "Ow."

Donny pulled the hand away from his head. "Hey. How you feeling, Mikey?"

Mikey's forehead was scrunched up from what had to be a killer headache. "And again: Ow."

Raph leaned over to look at him, letting the relief wash over him. "Psh. Sounds okay to me."

Mikey tried opening his eyes again, this time more slowly, keeping them narrowed into slits. "So. Concussion?"

"Yep," Donny answered.

"Did I win?"

"I don't know. The way I heard it, you took on a building, Don Quixote style." Donny looked at Raph.

"Oh." Mikey looked confused. "Did I say why?"

"A Foot ninja pulled you off the side of a building," Raph said quietly.

Don's eyes widened incredulously even as Mikey sat up, grabbing both sides of his head.

"He _fell_ off a building?"

"I fell off a _building_?!"

Raph shook his head, shrugging uncomfortably. It was only a matter of time now before he noticed. "Naw, I grabbed you. You just got a bump on the head is all. You're fine. Donny said so."

That seemed to calm the orange-clad ninja. "Oh. Well, Donny's pretty trustworthy. So what, Raph? You swooped in and snatched me out of the air?" He grinned, hand reaching, almost subconsciously it seemed, for his chest. "You _are_ like an eagle. Part turtle. Part eagle. That'd make you a teagle. Or and eag...le. Huh. Well..." He felt around for that familiar bulge under his shirt Raph knew he wouldn't find. He smile froze as his hand met with nothing.

Don noticed. "Mikey? You okay?"

Michelangelo's breaths came faster and harder as he frantically felt around his chest before hands went up to his neck. Nothing. He looked at Raph. "It's...You…you have it, right?" Dang. There was so much desperate hope in those words it hurt.

Raph felt his fists clench as his chest was flooded with guilt. He couldn't look at his brother. "He took it, Mike. That ninja. But I'm gonna get it back, I swear to you. I'm gonna find a way to get it back."

Mikey was already on his feet.

Donny reached out to steady him as he swayed slightly. "Whoa, Mikey, don't…"

But Mikey pulled away, heading for the door.

Raph rolled his neck and let out a frustrated sigh as he followed his little brother out of the car. "Mikey, stop."

"I gotta go get it back." Kid wasn't really hearing him at all.

"You're not goin'. Not now. Not alone, you're not. You don't even know…"

"I'll find out." Mikey's breathing was quick and uneven, and Raph didn't have to see his face to know he was hurting, bad.

"Stop, Mikey. You don't run out like this."

"I'm going after it."

"You're dead on your feet! That guy's probably at the Foot headquarters, wherever that is, and even if you _do_ find it, you walk in like this, and you're dead!"

"I'll risk it!"

"Tough! You don't get to make that call!"

"You can't stop me."

"Oh, don't make that bet, baby bro." With that, Raph caught him roughly by the back of his jacket and spun him around, pushing him backwards until he held him pressed up against the side of Leo's subway car, fists balled in the front of his jacket. Leonardo came out just then, having heard the commotion.

"Raph! What the..." Donny waved at him to be quiet.

Mikey was glaring at Raph, jaw stiff, eyes blazing. Hiding pain with anger. _That's usually my shtick, little bro._

"I'm going after it," he said lowly.

"No. You're not." Raph met his glare head on.

Mike tried to pull away. Raph wasn't about to let go. "_Why_ _not_?"

"'Cause I don't wanna hafta carry around a friggin' locket with _your_ picture in it for the rest of my life!" For a second, Mikey looked like he'd just been slapped, and Raph hated himself for that. Then the kid blinked and he just kind of crumbled. Anger melted into anguish.

"It was my mom's," he whispered brokenly. "She…she gave it to me, and I lost it." He turned pleading eyes to his big brother. "Raphie, I gotta get it back, please."

"I know, buddy. I know. You didn't lose it, okay? That punk stole it, and we're gonna get it back. I promise. Just not tonight."

Mikey bit his lip and nodded, blinking back tears. Mikey didn't cry much. Sure he'd pretend to blubber all over him if they were watching a sad movie, but that was funny and mostly just to annoy his brothers. Raph figured he could probably count on two hands the times he'd seen the kid really cry. That necklace, it was a locket, about an inch and a half long, and an inch wide, made of cheap brass that had probably once been painted gold. And there was a picture in it. Mikey's mom. It was the only thing he had from his life before, the only thing he _wanted_ from his life before. And he'd lost it. Because of Raph. Raph felt his gut clench. Mikey sniffed and pushed Raph's hands off his shirt. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Shut up," Raph said softly with more gentleness than he wanted anyone to know he was capable of. He took him by the shoulders and turned him towards where Donny was standing a few feet away. "So go to sleep or stay awake or whatever Don says you're supposed to do with that concussion." Mikey nodded as Raph pushed him towards his other big brother. He took a deep breath and sighed as he watched Don wrap an arm around Mikey's shoulder and lead him back to his room. Mikey would talk to Donny. Donny knew how to talk to Mikey. Always had.

Raph looked at Leo. "I need to talk to you."

Leo was looking worried and serious. Heck, since neither of them had their masks on, it was kinda like looking in a mirror. "I would say so, yeah."

Splinter had materialized behind him at some point. Raph pointed at him. "And I need to talk to you, too."

The rat nodded. "Come." The two turtles followed their father to his room.

Raphael didn't even wait to be prompted. "It was all my fault."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_Donny stepped up closer to the couch. "Good morning," he said with a smile._

_"'Morning," came the reply. The little stranger looked a little nervous and shaky, but, all things considered, the kid was taking this whole giant mutants thing remarkably well._

_"How'd you sleep?"_

_"Fine."_

_"How are you feeling?"_

_"Fine."_

_"Uh-huh." Donny didn't think he believed either of those answers. He reached out to check for fever only to have the kid shrink back away from him. "Hey. I just wanna see if that fever's still hanging on from last night. Hold still."_

_The boy looked wary and flinched slightly as Donny's hand landed on his brow, but allowed the contact this time. "I had a fever?" he sounded puzzled._

_"Nope," Donny sighed. "You _have_ a fever. It's a little one, though. We just gotta keep an eye on it, I think. You want some breakfast?"_

_The kid suddenly looked at him suspiciously. "Well, what do I hafta do?"_

_"Do?" Donny asked. "What do you mean what do you have to do? It's breakfast."_

_"I mean, to eat. To…you know…earn it. What do I hafta do here?"_

_Donny shook his head. "Oh, little human," he said softly. "Listen. All you have to do is promise not to tell anyone about us, okay?" Geeze, what kind of eight-year-old kid assumed he'd be forced to work to earn a meal? No wonder he was so skinny._

_"That's it?" He sounded confused._

_"That's it."_

_"Oh. I can do that."_

_"Promise?"_

_"I promise."_

_"Okay then."_

_The boy chewed his lip, thinking. "Well…what makes you think my word's any good? What if it's not? You don't know."_

_Donny shrugged. "I guess I just hope it is. But even if it isn't, I'd still let you eat."_

_"Really?"_

_"Really. So. Think you can make it to the table, or would you like me to bring your breakfast out here?"_

_"Um…" The human seemed more thrown by the question than to actually be considering an answer. "I can make it."_

_"You sure?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Okay then. It's this way. I see you've already met my brothers. That's good. And don't worry about Raph. He seemed kind of…whatever. He'll get over it. We're just not real used to having visitors, you know? Master Splinter's waiting at the table. You'll love him. I know it." The little guy had been fascinated last night by Donny's descriptions of the wise Japanese rat. But then, he'd been fascinated by just about everything, fighting the sleep his body so obviously needed to ask question after question until Donny had finally declared they both needed some rest._

_Now the little guy rose carefully from the couch, gripping the armrest as he swayed a little. Donny offered his hand. Kid shook his head. "'m okay. I got it." He squeezed his eyes shut briefly. The boy had to have a monstrous headache._

_"We've got some Children's Tylenol in the kitchen. It should help some," Donny offered._

_The boy looked surprised. "That's okay. I'm fine. For real." The last came out through gritted teeth as he began making his way forward._

_"Little human," Donny chided. The boy looked at him, guarded. "There's no shame in letting someone help you, you know." He held out his hand again with a grin. "Master Splinter says that kind of thing to Raph all the time."_

_The boy stared at the offered hand. He looked kind of sad. "I can't trust you." It seemed a little like he was reminding himself as much as he was telling Donny._

_"I know," the turtle answered. "But you gotta let me help you a little right now."_

_Deep breath. He let it out in a huff. "Okay." He slipped his hand into Donny's, and turtle helped human to the kitchen. As they reached the entryway, though, the boy let go and stood up straight with obvious effort. "I'm okay now. Thanks."_

_Donny sighed. "You don't have to worry about them, you know. They're not gonna be looking to prey on your weaknesses."_

_"Okay," he nodded like he got it. Even so, the kid walked in unassisted._

_Splinter was sitting at the head of the table, Leo and Raph on his right. All three looked up. Splinter smiled at the boy who'd dropped his gaze and was now trying very hard not to fidget. "Good morning to you, young one. How did you sleep?"_

_The boy continued to study the floor. "Good. Thank you, sir," he answered politely in a nervous voice that was just barely audible._

_The ninja master smiled warmly. "I am glad to hear it. Now come. Sit and eat."_

_The human gave a soft smile and moved as quickly as he could to obey. He climbed up into the chair to Splinter's left, finally daring to peek up at the large rat. "Thank…"_

_"That's Donny's spot." The cold voice came from the turtle wearing red. All eyes quickly shot toward Raph to see him sitting with arms casually crossed all but glaring at the human boy. "That chair you're sitting in," he nodded at it, "it's Donatello's. Move."_

_The boy's posture stiffened as he looked at Raph with wide eyes. He started to move, but Don stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Big blue eyes flicked back to find the purple-banded turtle planted firmly behind him returning Raph's glare._

_Leo was trying none too subtly to get Raph's attention, but Raphael's eyes were only on Donny. For his part, the human boy's jaw had a stubborn set to it, but he really looked like he just wanted to disappear._

_"You're fine where you are," Donny told him deliberately, though the words were at least as much for Raph's ears as they were for the boy's._

_Raph shrugged, his eyes still hard. "I'm just sayin' it's your spot, Don. He don't belong there." His words were too measured._

_"Raph," Leo hissed._

_Donny's eyes narrowed. "He does now."_

_A long, tense silence followed these quiet, forceful words, and it seemed like no one moved. Tension filled the place, focusing on the sightline between Donny and Raph. Then the little boy cleared his throat audibly and turned to Master Splinter, tilting his head to ask with genuine curiosity, "Where'd you get that robe?" The old ninja master looked down at him, slightly surprised by the question. "I mean…you're a rat. Where'd you find a robe that fits you so good?"_

_There was another silence, this one much shorter, before Leo suddenly let out a surprised chuckle. "I never thought of that before. Where _did_ you find it, Master Splinter?"_

_The old rat chuckled himself, and much of the tension was suddenly forgotten. The rest was momentarily ignored._

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

The Foot ninja glanced behind him for the hundredth time, making sure he wasn't being followed. Not that he expected to be, but he wouldn't take a chance on failing his master. He stuck to the brush at the edge of the old gravel road that wound up to an abandoned factory outside the city. It was a forgotten place, overgrown by trees whose leaves were turning their shades of yellow and orange. The ninja scaled one of these trees and slipped through a busted out second story window. He could hear the sounds of his fellow soldiers on the floor below training and sparring. An empire that once claimed over six hundred members was now reduced to but sixty men and women of all skill levels. After what had happened with those mutant abominations the Shredder had created, many of the Foot had turned traitor and left, to their own dishonor. Others had been arrested. But that wasn't a problem. Their numbers were growing daily. They would rebuild. They'd done it before. It was only a matter of time.

He made his way down a narrow hallway, avoiding the dark and warped places in the decrepit flooring. A large metal door stood at the end of the hall. He knocked twice.

"Enter."

Slowly, nervously, he pushed open the heavy door. The room was large and mostly empty with a high ceiling. The floors had been reinforced in here and were covered with a training mat. On the walls hung racks of weapons of all kinds. At the far side was a large chair. It was empty. The man who normally sat in it was currently running through an advanced kata as if he'd been born doing it. This man was the reason the floors had been reinforced in this room. Muscles bulged under a specially-tailored dogi designed specifically for the man wearing it. The man finished the kata and straightened, his back to the ninja. "Come," he said, unnaturally deep voice reverberating through the ninja, making his heart skip a beat.

The great man walked across the floor to the chair. Reaching toward the side table, he picked up a masked helmet, candlelight dancing across its surface. He placed it on his head, turned, and sat. "Is it done?"

The ninja dropped to one knee and bowed his head. His fingers twitched. "Yes, Master."

"The others?"

"We were attacked. One of the turtle creatures and their human. The rest did not get away. But I completed the mission. Both tasks." He rose, slipping the satchel off his shoulder and setting it at his master's feet. Licked his lips.

"Good. It is only a matter of time now until…" His master stopped abruptly. The ninja looked up to see those bottomless dark eyes staring at the small trophy he'd stolen from his enemy hanging around his neck. "What is that?" A hand flashed out, ripping the thing from his throat. The master studied it for a moment, ever unreadable. "Where did you get this?" His voice held a tone the ninja had not heard from his master before. Things were starting to get fuzzy, but he knew somehow that if he didn't answer right, he wouldn't live to see another sunrise. He felt the fear starting to well up. He hated the fear.

"The boy." He swallowed. "The boy that fights with the turtles. He wore it around his neck."

The master gripped the trinket tightly before clicking it open. It was a locket. The master stared at it and bowed his head, silent for a long moment. "Take your payment. Return in six hours. I will have a task for you."

The ninja bowed, taking the bag hungrily and reaching inside for a patch. He raised his sleeve and stuck it to the bare skin of his arm, feeling the world return to normal, feeling the fear ebb away. "As you wish," he said, "Master Shredder."


	3. Pawned

Hey, thanks everybody for the way awesome reviews! Hope you like!

Disclaimer: Don't even try to pay me for this. That's illegal.

Act III

_After breakfast the turtles got a half-hour break before morning practice. The meal had gone relatively smoothly after that first little incident. The boy had been mostly silent after that, watching this strange little family—and they really were a family, he could tell—with fascinated curiosity. Nobody had asked him any questions about his past, which was a relief. Maybe they believed him about the amnesia, though he reflexively doubted that. The turtles and their rat father had chatted on comfortably, and it all looked so warm and natural, and they were even real nice to him, letting him pick his own cereal and all. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until he found himself staring forlornly at the bottom of his bowl. He was shocked when Splinter nudged the cereal box in his direction. "You may eat until you are filled, little one," Splinter had said softly, looking at him with those warm, shiny black eyes. "You must recover your strength. If you are still hungry, eat."_

_The boy had watched the rat warily, scarcely believing what he was hearing. A free meal _with seconds_? He slowly refilled his bowl, eyes darting around to see if anyone would take it from him. No one did. He grinned. "Thank you, sir." He looked at Donny. The turtle had grinned back at him._

_The human had been aware of the different pairs of eyes on him throughout the meal. Mostly Donny and Leonardo and Splinter shooting little occasional glances his way, which made sense. He was a stranger. They should keep an eye on him. But the red-wearing turtle—Raphael—he never looked at him. Well, except if the boy spoke. Then Raphael would glare at him. It was like the turtle was trying to pretend the human wasn't really there and was mad at the boy for the reminder that he was. He sighed. Raphael hated him. He told himself that was okay. Lots of people hated him. Why should this turtle be any different? Besides, the others were so nice there looked like there was a chance that he might be able to make them like him if he tried hard enough. In fact, he was kind of glad Raphael hated him. He thought it sort of proved that he wasn't just dreaming or something. 'Cause the rest of this place seemed almost too cool to be true. He wondered idly how long that would last._

_"Little one." The boy was startled from his thoughts as he realized the big rat was talking to him. He almost smirked at how weird that thought was but shook his head slightly and shot nervous eyes up to Splinter._

_"Wha…yes. Um. Yes, sir?" It flustered him that he hadn't been paying attention. He didn't know what would happen if he got in trouble here. What would these strangers do if he messed stuff up…_

_Splinter smiled his peaceful, disarming smile that seemed almost to make the boy relax a little whether he wanted to or not. "May I speak with you privately for a little while?"_

_The boy swallowed. This couldn't be good. Not like he could really refuse, though. "Um…shouldn't…shouldn't I help…clean up?" But then it couldn't hurt to try to stall a little._

_He jumped as a green, three-fingered hand landed on his shoulder. Donny. The turtle pretended not to notice his reaction, which raised him up a few more notches in the boy's eyes. "Don't worry. We got it covered, little human." He leaned down slightly so he could whisper, "Really. Don't worry. Master Splinter just wants to help you." The turtle winked with a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder and straightened, clearing more dishes and heading for the sink. Leonardo poked him on the way there, causing Don to nearly drop a glass. Donny mock-glared and threw a rag at his brother who chuckled. They sure did touch each other a lot here. Shoulder squeezes and little familiar smacks and pokes and nudges that didn't ever hurt—just enough to let the other know they existed and were important and comfortable. That they were family. The boy didn't think he'd ever be able to get used to something like that. But he thought it was the coolest thing._

_The boy turned back to Splinter, still sitting at the head of the table waiting patiently for an answer. The little boy nodded mutely._

_"Come." Splinter stood, taking up a dark wood, slightly gnarled-looking stick. Biting his lip, the boy carefully managed to stand his body up. The medicine Donny had given him helped some, but he still hurt. Still, the giant rat with the stick said to come; he'd come. Splinter made it to the entryway and turned back, frowning slightly with a look in his eyes that seemed familiar but the boy couldn't quite place. _Uh-oh_, he thought. _He's probably getting annoyed_. Splinter was strict; Donny had said so. He wouldn't want to be kept waiting. But the boy had twisted his knee the day before, and it was so stiff and sore now, and in his desperation to make his legs go faster, to catch up to the rat, the knee buckled. The boy sucked in a quiet breath as he felt himself falling. _

_He managed to stretch the painful knee out and land on his hands and the untwisted knee, biting back a cry as the sudden move jarred all those places in him that hurt. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he saw the rat's hand—or paw, whatever—coming at him. He immediately shoved himself backward, away from the attack, twisting between the kitchen chairs to slide beneath the table, bracing the chair between himself and the rat with his feet. His breaths were coming in short gasps that made his ribs hurt real bad, and it seemed all the movement had awakened every last bruise on his body, not to mention his knee. He wanted to cry. He couldn't do this. It was gonna get worse now. Any second these chairs would be ripped away. He'd have no protection and no excuse for his stupid klutziness. He waited one second. Two. Three. _

_He counted to seven before he heard the soft voice. "Little one."_

_"I'm sorry," he choked. He wasn't gonna cry, though. Crying made things worse._

_The rat lowered himself to the floor on his knees, using his stick to help with the descent. Hand on the stick; hand always on the stick. "I promise I will not hurt you." The rat could see him now, was looking right at him. He kept his eyes on the stick. He'd heard those promises before. This voice sounded so sincere, though, making something in his chest ache. _

_"Please don't," he whispered._

_"Why are you frightened, child? It is not my appearance that troubles you." It wasn't exactly a question._

_He shook his head, eyes on the stick._

_"Then what is it? Have I given you cause to fear me with such intensity?"_

_"No," he whispered numbly. But still, all his eight-year-old mind knew was exactly what kind of marks that stick would leave on his body when it hit him. He swallowed. This would be bad. Splinter was a ninja master. But maybe he could convince him to go easy. "You don't gotta. Please?"_

"Mikey."

Donny was standing by the door of the car, watching him flutter about the room picking things up and putting them down and fiddling with this and poking that because he didn't know what would happen if he did. So far he hadn't broken anything, which was good, especially since his mind was jumping every which a-way, way quicker than his body could move back and forth across the room. Trying to walk off the physical sense of dread that had clamped onto his chest. Trying to think past the pounding in his head, the tightness in his shoulders. Trying to think of anything other than…

"Mikey."

Donny said his name a lot. He could say his name a hundred times and it would mean something different every time. _I think you're funny. _You_ think you're funny. You're getting on my nerves. I wish you'd listen to me. Are you okay? Love you, little brother. I'm glad you're here. This is a bad idea. Are you completely insane? _He liked that, though. It was kind of nice. Mikey was _his_ name. It was a nickname his brothers gave him, and he liked it and thought it fit. Michelangelo Hamato. Mikey. Mike. It wasn't what Shehad called him. She'd named him something else. That had fit, too, but now she was dead, and that name died with her.

"_Mikey_." And suddenly Donny was right in front of him, snatching some technical doohickey he didn't remember picking up from his fingers and grasping him by the chin, tilting his head up to look at his eyes. "Would you slow down and look at me?"

Mikey blinked. Shrugged him off. Kept talking. Because talking was a great way to keep from saying anything. "You look great, bro. Like a million bucks. Hey, in England they use pounds, right? Instead of dollars? So if you had a date, and she was really hot, and you were in England, would you say like, 'Hey, babe, you look like a million pounds'? 'Cause I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that could probably be misconstrued…"

"Mikey."

"Then the next thing you know, she thinks you think she's fat, and she's crying and you're trying to explain and she's super ticked, and suddenly you're like in favor of switching to the euro or someth…"

"Michelangelo!"  
"What?"

"Stop!" Donny wasn't going to leave it alone, though. Donny never could leave anything alone when it needed fixing, and Mikey was pretty sure he needed fixing. But he knew this time there wasn't anything Donny could do, no matter how smart he was.

"Stop what?"

"Stop pretending you're okay!" He lowered his voice. "You're not as good at it as you used to be."

Mikey sighed, turning away and scratching the back of his head. "And whose fault is that?"

"I take full credit. Thank you." Donny leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. "Something bad happened tonight. It's okay to not be okay all the time."

"Call me a crazy but extremely charming head-case, Don, but I don't think talking about it's going to help." He hated the way his voice sounded when he was upset. He hated being serious. Serious things got too real and too hurtful. It was better to not talk about them. "It's not going to bring it back." _It's not going to bring _her _back._

"No," Don said evenly, fixing him with a penetrating stare. "It won't."

Mikey shook his head. "It's late," he hedged.

"I know."

"I'm concussed."

Donny gave him a look, eye ridge raised. "You want to go to sleep? Bro, be my guest. I'll be here for you when you wake up screaming." Mikey looked away guiltily. "_That's _what happens when you don't talk about it, Mikey. You can't deal with this kind of heavy stuff by yourself. You just can't. And I don't get why you keep trying, because you don't _have _to anymore."

There was a moment of silence from both brothers. Mikey shifted his weight from foot to foot. He'd never really told Donny about his life before. Hadn't told anyone. Heck, he hadn't even shown his family the locket until two years after they'd adopted him. He didn't do pain well—not the emotional kind. If he were honest with himself—something he'd prefer not to get in the habit of doing—his insides felt a little like they were going through an ice shaver. He'd never empathized with ice before. He sighed. "I'll never eat a snow cone again." For his part, Donny tilted his head to the side, but didn't say anything. He was probably used to Mikey's runaway train of thought by now. The younger brother sighed again, toeing out of his shoes. He leaned back against the desk next to Donny. Head down. Eyes on his hands. He shrugged a shoulder just for good measure. "I just…I don't remember her real well anymore," he said softly. "I don't know what her name was. Maybe I never did. I just always called her Mom." He bit his lip. This wasn't helping. This hurt. But Donny was right next to him, and Donny could fix anything. Even if he really couldn't. "She died when I was real small. I'd just had a birthday. Five, I think." He swallowed. "Donny, I don't…I don't know what happened to her. We were together for a long time, and happy, and then she was just…she was gone, and something happened in between, and I know it was bad, but I can't…can't remember." His throat hurt and his eyes stung and his breathing was too fast and hitchy. And he hated this. And Donny was there. "But I had the necklace, and I had her picture inside; so I knew I wouldn't ever forget her. And I held onto it through everything bad that came after she was gone, 'cause it was all I had from before, the only good thing, and it's gone now, and I shouldn't have worn it outside, but why would that guy take it like that? It's nothing to him. Donny, he could've…could've chucked it the minute he left for all I know. And I gotta find it, but what if I…" he finally raised his eyes to meet his brother's as he spoke the fear that was gnawing at his guts. "What if I can't?" His voice caught on the last word, and he found himself pulled against a solid plastron, two arms wrapped tight around him.

"Mikey." _I'm so sorry you hurt, little bro. _"Listen, we track that guy down, and we find out what happened. We'll get it back."

"But what if it's gone? What if we can't get it back?"

"Hey. You remember the picture?"

"Yes." He knew every line and tint and color on that little photograph. The red curls on her head, the blue eyes, the faint trace of freckles. He knew it like he knew the face that looked back at him in the mirror each day.

"So make a new one."

Mikey let out a quiet breath. He could draw it. He could match it, make it perfect. It'd be the most perfect thing he'd ever drawn and he could even make it bigger. Frame it. Put it in his room. Why hadn't he done that before? He hadn't needed to. He'd had the locket. And he still wanted it back. He worked his jaw. "Okay," he whispered. "I can do that. I'm gonna do it. But…"

Donny gave him a little squeeze. "We're still going to find it. Then you'll have both—the one she gave you, and the one you made. Okay?"

Mikey nodded. And if a couple tears finally lost their battle with gravity, it was mostly because it was late and he was concussed. It was ironic—not in a funny way, but in a stupid way—the last time he'd cried had been when Splinter was lost. The Foot had taken him, and that deep down part of Mikey where he hid everything that truly terrified him had kept whispering he might never see his father alive again. Donny was there then, too. They'd gotten Splinter back. This time the Foot had taken the last piece of his mom. And they'd get that back, too.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Splinter stole a glance at his youngest son for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour. Actually, hundredth was probably more of an estimation than an exaggeration. Michelangelo was sitting at the table, painstakingly working on recreating the picture from the locket that had been stolen, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. Raphael had been very distraught at the events, blaming himself as he often seemed bent on doing when things went wrong. The red-banded turtle had vowed to get the locket back whatever it took. Leonardo had gone with him that morning, braving daylight to collect any leads they could find on the whereabouts of this missing Foot thief. Michelangelo had wanted to go, but Splinter and Donatello had been firm in their orders for him to rest. Head injuries were not to be taken lightly, especially when even a little dizziness could spell disaster when navigating the city by their usual means—alleys and rooftops.

Still, the youngest of the Hamato clan probably would've pitched a fit if his two oldest brothers hadn't promised him they'd come back and tell him about anything they found. And the teen was definitely not happy about being left behind, something he'd vocalized quite loudly. But the fact that he had eventually given in was evidence enough that the boy knew he wasn't feeling a hundred percent physically just yet.

Michelangelo sighed loudly before grabbing up an eraser and roughly scrubbing out whatever he'd just done. The boy was frustrated and hurt and angry. It didn't take a ninja master to sort that out. The young human sat and scowled at the offending sheet of paper for a moment.

"What troubles you, my son?" Splinter asked.

Michelangelo gave a small humorless laugh, looking up at his master. "You really want that list?"

Splinter merely raised an eyebrow.

"Well, besides mimes, Raph belting out the lyrics to 'Moondance' when he thinks no one's around, and the ending of _Castaway_…" He sighed, shooting a sudden vulnerable look up at his father as he admitted, "I can't get the eyes right."

Before Splinter could answer, Donatello popped his head out from behind the chair he was currently repairing. "Hold that thought for a second." The purple-banded turtle shot up and disappeared inside his room.

Michelangelo glanced at Splinter. "Should we be nervous?"

Donatello reappeared at that moment, and when Splinter saw what his son held in his hand, he smiled. "I should think not." He believed he had an idea where Donatello was going.

The turtle set the object on the table next to his brother's work-in-progress. Michelangelo stared at it. "It's a mirror."

And it was. It was set on a base and could swivel back and forth. Donatello grinned. "Yes, it is."

"Hm." Michelangelo nodded sagely. "Yeah, no idea what you're goin' for here. Either you're trying to make me feel better by reminding me how righteously handsome I am, or…what? Is this like some kind of brilliant, geniussy exercise to stimulate some kind of neuro-some-odd cortex-or-other thingy in my brain to make me be able to remember whatever I'm missing so I can draw it better?"

"Um. Kind of." The turtle smiled again, tilting the mirror so that Mikey could see his own reflection. "Remember when you showed me her picture?"

Michelangelo tilted his head. "Yeeah," he said slowly.

Donatello nodded. "Her eyes," he said, and pointed to his brother's eyes in the mirror, "they looked just like that."

Mikey was quiet for a moment before flashing a brief, rare, shy smile that reminded the rat of the much younger child his son had been. "Thanks."

"No prob." Donny nudged him and moved back to his own project to let his brother work.

The young human studied his eyes in the mirror for a moment, considering. A second later, pencil was once more sliding across paper.

_Splinter followed the quaking child's gaze to his walking stick, and the ninja master suddenly felt ill. He spared a look at his youngest son, Donatello, standing rooted by the counter, watching with worry-filled, too-bright eyes. Splinter looked back at the terrified little boy beneath his kitchen table. The ninja master set his walking stick down on the floor and rolled it away. The boy's eyes followed it all the way to the wall where it came to a stop. Then those eyes so full of fear and mistrust and pain shot back to look at him. _

_Slowly, Splinter extended one hand, palm out. "Come here, little one."_

_"Are you mad?" came the soft reply._

_He was indeed very angry—at whoever could infuse this child with so much raw fear. But he knew the real question the boy was asking was, _Are you mad at me?_ "I am not." He doubted then that he ever truly could be._

_"Sure?"_

_Splinter sniffed at the question, perhaps to cover the sound of his heart breaking. "Of course. Hm. It is unwise and unsafe to stay down on this floor as you are. You will catch a cold. You certainly do not need an illness on top of your injuries. Come now." The no-nonsense tone coupled with genuine concern seemed to get through to the boy. He reached out slowly and took the offered hand and let Splinter gently help him out from under the table._

_"I'm sorry," the human whispered, daring to look up at him._

_"You have no need to apologize, young one. Indeed, it is not you who should be sorry. Now. Which side of you is the least injured?"_

_The boy blinked up at him. "Um. Sir?"_

_"Which side feels better? You are unable to walk. I would like to know on what side it will be most comfortable for me to carry you."_

_The blue eyes nearly popped out of their owner's head. "What?"_

_"Which side?" he asked for the third time._

_The boy shook his head, completely nonplussed. "I can walk. You don't hafta…"_

_"Would you prefer I pick for you?" he leveled a firm look at the youngster. He had no doubt the child would find a way to manage to walk on his own if his legs fell off. That wasn't simple stubborn independence. The boy was too afraid to know how to accept help._

_"This side," the boy spit out quickly, indicating his right side. _

_The ninjitsu master scooped the boy up gently. The child's body was stiff, every muscle, it seemed, tensed. He looked down at the wide eyes. "Now," he said kindly, "are you all right?" The boy nodded quickly._

_Splinter carried him across the dining room. Donny grinned and waved at the boy. The boy returned the wave, still too shocked apparently to gather a smile. Master Splinter brought the child to his own room and set him carefully on the old recliner. He stepped back and sat down in the wooden chair a few feet away. The boy had been watching him unblinkingly, but now suddenly dropped his gaze to his lap. He picked at a seam on the sleeve of his shirt. It appeared he wanted to say something. Splinter waited._

_"I'm really sorry," came the soft voice a little later. "I didn't mean to…" he trailed off, shoulders hunching together slightly. He didn't look up._

_"You were afraid."_

_"Maybe." A tiny shrug. "You guys _are_ kinda…different. A lotta kids'd probably be scared."_

_Splinter almost smiled. For one so young, this boy had some well-tuned powers of deflection. "But it is not what is different about us that frightened you, was it? And if you are not afraid of different, perhaps you are afraid of what may be the same?"_

_The boy winced but looked up. "What do you mean?"_

_"What happened to you, young one? Why do you carry so much pain?"_

_Eyes dropped again. "I can't say. Um, didn't Donny tell you?"_

_"He told me you had informed him that you could not remember your past."_

_The boy nodded. "Right."_

_"It is true then?"_

_Another vigorous nod. "Uh-huh."_

_Splinter paused. "It is true that this is what you told him or that you cannot remember your past?"_

_"Yes," the boy said decisively._

_The elderly master looked into the nervously shifting eyes, seeing clearly how this quick young human boy was managing to lie to him while not really telling a lie at all. Blue eyes begged him to change the subject. "You, young stranger, are entitled to your secrets," he soothed. "I will not attempt to pry them from you." He saw tense shoulders relax a little. "However, a path traveled without trust is a lonely one. And the burdens you bear, I think, are heavy. So while I would not suggest you give your trust lightly, little one, please hear me when I tell you that you need not walk through life alone."_

_The boy was quiet and tense for a long moment, blue eyes averted and roiling with emotions just beneath the surface. Fear. Pain. An unimaginable loneliness. But Splinter believed he saw something else in this young human. Hope. This boy was…an optimist, wasn't he? Somehow in that scarred heart, a seed of hope had survived. The boy blinked and nodded once. "'kay." Then the moment was gone, and the boy sat back, looking at the ninja master with a very serious expression. "And you can trust me, okay? I won't ever tell anyone about you ever. No matter what. I promise. 'Cause Donny said that no one can know, 'cause people would be scared of you. And people hurt things they're scared of, even if it doesn't make any sense to be scared of it." The boy stared at Splinter with impossibly solemn eyes that suddenly seemed way too old. It was as if he was speaking from experience. Splinter wondered how that could be possible. "I won't let you get hurt. 'Specially not 'cause of me. You got my word on it, even if my word's not any good to you yet. I'm real good at keeping secrets. I'll keep yours, too. Promise."_

_Splinter bowed his head in acknowledgment. This small human suddenly seemed more rare and precious. As strong as he was fragile. A paradox with a heart and a soul and no name. "I believe you, little one," he said seriously. "Now will you take me at my word when I tell you something?"_

_The boy thought it over carefully, chewing his lip as he hesitated. Finally his eyes caught Splinter's. "Okay." Then he quickly changed it to "Yes." He looked nervous._

_Splinter stood and crossed the space between them, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. The child instinctively flinched, but looked up. "I will not harm you," Splinter said slowly, firmly. "Do you believe me?"_

_The boy swallowed, suddenly looking vulnerable. He nodded. "Yeah," he whispered. "I do." Then he winced. "I don't…I kinda...um…react sometimes to stuff. When people…when anybody…gets too close. It…it doesn't mean I don't still believe you…"_

_"I have noticed these reflexes in you, little one. I do not fault you for possessing them." That was true. Those instincts were obviously instilled by someone else—a fact which made the father in him burn with anger. But he had also been amazed at the speed with which the young boy had been able to react, especially in light of his injuries. In retrospect, the ninja master in him saw a quick mind with reflexes that could make him a tricky opponent given the right training. He reigned in that thought. It really didn't even merit consideration given the circumstances. "I will know to be more considerate of them in the future."_

_The boy gave him a funny look. "This is your house. You don't gotta be considerate. I won't be around long, anyway." This last part, he almost made into a question. Almost._

_It was a question Splinter was still unprepared to answer. What could he do with this child? What was the right thing? He supposed in this instance, time would have to tell, though even this made him cautious. The longer the boy stayed, the harder it would be when it was time for him to leave. "You are injured and exhausted. Let us talk about your next step after you have recovered."_

_The little boy looked at him, trying to chew down a hopeful smile. "You mean…I can stay here today?"_

_Splinter nodded once. "You may."_

_The boy ducked his head, doing a poor job of hiding a full-blown, much-relieved grin. Then, spur-of-the-moment it seemed, he just decided not to try to hide it at all. He looked up, with that huge, almost painfully grateful smile lighting up those eyes. _Oh, for crying out loud_, thought the old rat in protest, and he wondered how anyone had ever denied this child anything he'd asked for. _

"_Thank you! Thank you a lot. For everything, Mr. Splinter. And if you need something…like anything, like if you need something cleaned or moved or something…or I can cook a little bit! I can make pasta pretty good. I don't know if you guys eat pasta, but, I mean, you eat cereal, so…"_

_"Calm down, little one," Splinter said, having to smother a smile at his enthusiasm. "You need do nothing but rest. You may use my bed. The sheets are clean. I must go now for morning training. If you need anything, call."_

_"Um, actually…" The boy hesitated, craning his neck to look through the doorway. He looked rather unsure whether he should say what he so obviously wanted to say._

_"Go on."_

_"Um…would it be okay if…I watched? Morning ninja training?"_

_Splinter tilted his head to regard the young boy. Donatello must have told the boy about their ninjitsu training. The child had his hopeful face on. Splinter remembered the incident in the kitchen, the way the boy could move, and he had to remind himself that he could not afford to have ambitions for this boy. Whatever promise the boy showed, it would not be good for him to have Splinter be the one to tap into it._

_"I'll rest. Promise. I'll just sit there and watch. And I won't move or talk or anything." He flashed a sudden winning smile. "Please?"_

_Splinter knew the young boy needed the rest, but he couldn't step on the child's obvious interest. It surely wouldn't hurt for the human to spend some time observing Splinter's favorite art form. _

_The youngster must've mistaken Splinter's silence for a negative answer, however, because he suddenly stopped and looked down to hide the obvious disappointment. "But that's okay. I don't wanna be in the way…"_

_"You will not be in the way."_

_A slight wince. "Yes, sir."_

_Another misunderstanding. The ninja master mentally shook himself. "You will not be in the way because there is a place for you to sit and watch from a distance. If that is what you wish."_

_A sudden blinding smile. "That's what I wish. Thank you."_

_Splinter nodded. "Then I will carry you." He waited until the boy nodded his permission before he picked him up on his right side. The young human still seemed uncomfortable with the idea of the physical contact and the kind of dependency that came with being carried around, but he didn't offer any protests. He was quick enough to see that he wouldn't win the argument. Or maybe he was too worried he'd lose the sensei's permission to sit in on the training session. _

_"You know, you're really soft," the boy told him confidentially, the hand that had automatically latched itself onto the collar of Splinter's robe able to feel the thick, dark fur._

_Splinter had to hide a smile. Having raised three sons with big brown eyes, he often felt like he was going soft. He thought the fact that he currently had his arms full of the world's cutest eight-year-old human confirmed it. "Thank you."_

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Leonardo swung down to the alleyway next to his brother. It was near dusk. "Raph," he said quietly, "we've been looking around for hours. And from the start, we haven't even known what exactly we're looking for. Maybe we should head in. April knows to call us if she hears anything, and we should probably check in with Splinter."

Raphael's shoulders tensed, eyes narrowed behind the red mask. "Yeah? So, what then? You givin' up? You wanna go back empty handed and tell that to Mikey?"

"No," Leo said in that slow way he did when he was struggling to hold onto his last shred of patience. Raph heard that tone a lot from him. "No, I don't. Because I'm _not_ giving up. But a blind search isn't going to get us anywhere, and you know that. As hard as it is, we have to wait for the Foot to make a move. Look, I know you feel bad about what happened…"

"Oh, do ya now?" Raph rolled his eyes. "I forget sometimes that you know _everything_. Why do we even have conversations? Why don't you just read my mind? It'd save us a heck of a lotta time. Now, for instance. Know what I'm thinkin' now, Leo?"

"It wasn't. Your. Fault," Leo told him shortly. "And the sooner you figure that out and quit blaming yourself for something you had no control over, the more useful you'll be when we _do_ find the guy who snatched it."

Raph turned away. "See, actually, you're a little off, because what I was thinkin' is that you need to keep your opinions to yourself. Not in the mood for a pep talk, Fearless. Now come on. I ain't goin' back there without some kinduva lead."

"You saved Mikey's life, you know…"

"Yes, I did. I'm the big hero. When we find the guy who almost killed him and I bust his head in, _then_ you can throw me a parade. How's that?"

"Raph…"

"Leave it alone, Leo," Raph warned. It was his guilt, and he was going to hold onto it until he made it right. He didn't want understanding. He just wanted to fix it. As his eyes scanned the area out of the alley, though, he caught sight of smoke rising in the distance. Too much smoke. "What the shell is going on?"

Leo took a step forward. "We should check it out."

"We ain't exactly the fire brigade."

"Look where we are. That fire's on the south side. It looks like it's near where you said you and Mikey were last night. There's something going on down there. Let's just make sure it's a coincidence. Unless _you_ have a better idea."

Raph didn't.

The two took off, picking carefully across the couple miles separating them from the blaze, extra careful in the waning sunlight. As Raph realized where they were going, he felt that same bad feeling in his gut. He stopped, watching the inferno. "This is feeling less and less like a coincidence."

The place that was on fire was the same store the Foot had robbed the night before. The fire department had already arrived and was battling the orange flames billowing from the windows of the two-story building. The scene looked surreal against a pinkish/purple sky.

"I'd say less so than you think. Look." Leo pointed, and Raph barely caught the hint of movement east of the building. Black fabric. Two katanas. A Foot soldier. He knew it couldn't be the same guy. He almost didn't care.

"Close enough." Raph sucked in a deep breath. "Come on." And without waiting for a response from his brother, he tore off after the man.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

"Mikey, that's not how you spell 'blood'."

"So? It sounds the same."

"Phonetically it sounds the same, but you can't play a word that's not really a word."

"I'm still trying to figure out why you needed to use the word 'phonetically' at the beginning of that sentence."

Donatello looked at his own tiles and tried to look annoyed. "Fine. Go ahead and count it."

Mikey smirked. "Thank you."

"Okay. So I'll take your b-l-u-d and add…g-e-o-n-e-e-r. Bludgeoneer. That's a 50 point bonus for using all my tiles." He finished laying out the pieces in time to look up and catch his little brother's wildly incredulous look. "Ooh, tough luck, bro."

" 'Bludgeoneer'? No way that's a word!"

"Actually, it is. More of a word than your creative version of 'blood'."

"Geeze." Mike nearly pouted. "This is worse than the time Leo got me to play Risk."

"Your turn."

"Let's see. I've got…'the.' "

Just then, the trapdoor was noisily flung open, and Raph slid down the ladder. "We found 'em!"

Leo was right behind. "Mikey, we found the guy! It was the same guy!"

"_What_?" Mikey was out of his seat in a second. "How? Where is he? Did he still have it?"

Raph grabbed him by the shoulders, which Donny figured probably hurt, considering the young human's arms were probably still sore from holding up that Foot Tarzan-wannabe the previous night. But Mikey wasn't complaining. "The guy was in the same place," Raph explained, and he was excited the way Raph got excited. "Same place as last night. That liquor store. It was all up in flames; the Foot guy probably set it, and we saw him slinkin' away like the weasel he is, an' we followed him. Punk changed into his civvies and slipped into a pawn shop on Harris. Me an' Leo got close enough. _He hocked the locket_, bro. Got a friggin' ticket for it and everything, and it's just sittin' there in that pawn shop. We just gotta go get it!"

"A pawn shop?" Mikey was shaking his head and grinning. "You saw him…Dude, I can't believe you found the guy!" He threw himself forward, squeezing a surprised Raph around the ribs hard enough to make the older turtle let out a short huff. "Trackin' down the bad guy, solving the crime. Dude, you're like a green version of Kojak. I mean, you've already got his haircut. All you need is the lollipop."

"Hey." Raph was obviously trying to look offended at the bald crack, but it didn't take a genius to spot that he was really just trying not to let some sappy smile take over his face. He pulled his little brother off. "Yeah, I know. I rock. Hug Leo or something. He was there." Donny knew Raph well enough to know when he was relieved and when he was happy. Right then he was both at an extremely high level.

Mikey smiled. "'Kay. Thanks, Raph. 'Who loves ya, baby'?" Then Leo got squished, too.

"Whoa. Mikey. Ow. You've been…doing those exercises I showed you…huh?" the oldest brother practically gasped.

"Naw, dude. Adrenaline." Mikey released him and practically bounced. "So what're we waiting for? Let's go." He was already headed for the ladder.

"Uh, Mikey?"

Donny watched the boy swivel around to look at him. "What? We gotta go tonight. What if someone buys it before I can get there tomorrow? The locket's not worth much, I'll slap a few bucks on the counter, call it even."

"I know, but…"

"And my head feels fine. All better. Whatever pills you gave me worked like a whole bowl full of Lucky Charms. I'm fine to go out."

"Yes, I realize that, but Mikey…"

"'Cause I _gotta_ go tonight, Donny. I just have to. With or without you guys, I…"

"Mikey," Donny said sharply. "You forgetting something?"

"Wh…" The teen looked down. Then he looked up. "Oh," he said simply. "I'll go grab my weapons and my mask." He darted back to his room.

"And your _shoes_," Leo called after him, shaking his head. The three brothers left standing on the platform grinned at each other. "Man, I still can't believe we found it. How crazy are those odds?"

"Astronomical," Donny answered, mind boggled at the thought of it. "You said the guy was committing arson at the time?"

"'swhat it looked like," Raph said.

"Whoa." Something on the table had caught Leo's eye. He whistled as he picked up the frame Donny had fit together earlier. "That's her."

Careful strokes and expert shading. Delicate features and smiling blue eyes jumped off the paper. Donny smiled. "Kept him busy today. Kept him from running off after you at least."

"Dang," said Raph. "Kid's good."

The aforementioned kid appeared a second later, hopping on one foot as he tied his sneaker. He'd pulled on a black hoodie and his mask was scrunched up on the top of his head like a knit cap. "Let's go, bros. Last one there gets to tell Splinter we're going. Leo, I'm predicting it's going to be you." He pulled down his mask and wiggled his eyebrows.

Leo rolled his eyes as he went to inform their Sensei they were headed out. The three turtles then followed their little brother up the ladder. Donny looked at Raph. "You know he's going to be almost impossible to keep up with, right?"

"I swear I'm gonna get that kid a leash."

They heard Leo yelling at the young ninja to stay quiet. Donny winced. "I'll put in for half."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Mikey could hardly contain his excitement as they neared the old shop. The words _King's Pawn _were painted on the sign over the door, and there was every kind of odd and/or end anybody could ever think of displayed in the windows. They weren't going in the front, though, of course. They'd circle around and go in the back through the alley. Less chance of being spotted, less chance of being caught. Mikey tapped his foot as Donny disabled the security system. The purple-banded turtle held up his screw-driver in triumph.

"I think they have a better system down at Buzzy's Beer and Tackle," the tech-head jibed.

"What are you doing breaking into Buzzy's Beer and Tackle?" Mikey's question went unanswered—other than the eye-roll—as Donny made short work of the lock. They were in.

It was dark inside the building. They'd entered through the stock room in the back. Mikey clicked on a mini mag-lite and shone it around. "Okay. Where's the jewelry section? Hey, we should pick up something for April while we're here. She loves old junk." He picked up a nearby bust of Pythagoras. "Don't know who this dude is, but the beard is wicked cool. Paint him blue, and he could be related to Papa Smurf."

"Mikey, would you come on."

"Hey, dude, don't gotta tell _me_ why we're here." Mikey set the statue aside and continued making his way toward the front part of the store, shining his light on the trinkets, big and small that lined the shelf. He found himself feeling a little nervous. What if it wasn't here? What if the owner had moved it or taken it home? What if someone had already snatched it up? What if?

"Stop." The command came from Leo, and his voice held an edge to it that brought all three of his brothers up short.

"What?" Donny asked.

"I…thought I heard something."

"No wonder. This place's probably got cockroaches the size of ballpark…" Raph suddenly froze, hand going to his neck. He pulled out a long, thin dart. "…hotdogs…oh, shell." The red-banded turtle suddenly fell.

The other three brothers had their weapons drawn. "Donny, get the lights! It's a trap!" Leo called, and he managed to block two darts before one planted itself into the skin at the base of his neck. He bounced off a shelf, sending items scattering before he hit the floor.

"Leo!"

Donny found the switch and hit it, flooding the place with light. Atop the highest shelves, hanging from the ceiling, gripping to the walls…the place was crawling with black-suited, silent-as-death Foot ninjas. Mikey swallowed. Two brothers down. And they were surrounded.

Donny lashed out with his bo at the nearest members of the Foot, knocking two of them in the head. "Mikey, run! Umf!" The dart pierced his skin, and he had barely a few seconds before Mikey saw his eyes slide shut. "Get out…"

"Donny!" There was no way he could get out, no way he'd really try to bail anyway. He wouldn't leave his brothers. His nunchucks were spinning, and his heart was pounding. "Hey, kids. Don't guess you guys'd consider lining up to fight me one at a time?" The surrounding Foot soldiers took a step forward. "Didn't think so." He expected to feel whatever had laid out his brothers bite into his skin any second. Didn't mean he couldn't try to take some of theirs down with him. He leapt forward, chucks flying and feet striking in a whirl of energy and emotion. Whatever had been in those darts…it wasn't gonna be lethal. They were asleep. They had to be. And the sooner he took out all these Foot, the sooner he could check on them.

Someone kicked him in the back, and he lurched forward, and a pair of hands latched onto his left arm. He tried to yank free, and punched the guy in the face, but still the guy held tight. Someone else leaped forward, and grabbed onto his leg. "Get off, you little leaches!" he grunted.

"Enough." The voice came from somewhere above, and things seemed to pause. It was a voice Mikey recognized faintly. He looked up to see a Foot ninja sitting on one of the high shelves. "You will surrender now."

Mikey glared at him. "You seem awfully sure."

"Your brothers are still alive. They are simply sedated and will wake up soon. You will surrender and come with us."

Mikey shook his head. This didn't make sense. They had him. They didn't need him to surrender. "Why?"

"I have my orders, foolish boy."

"What about my brothers?"

"They will not be harmed."

"How do I know? You could kill them the second I walk outta here with you."

"I could kill them now," the man stated simply.

"Got me there." Mikey took a deep breath. He pulled out of the nearest Foot soldier's grasp and went to kneel beside Donny. The Foot let him check his brother's vitals. The turtle was still breathing, his heart still beating. He looked okay. Same story with Raph and Leo. Mike looked up at the man who'd spoken. "Why do you want me?"

"My master wishes to speak with you." Suddenly, Mikey knew where he'd heard that voice. It was the assassin. The one from last night. He suddenly felt his gut clench. _This was all a setup…to get _me _here?_ What could the Foot possibly want with him? Especially when they had all three of his brothers right there at their disposal?

Mikey swallowed, looking around at all the featureless faces. Looked at his brothers. There was no way out of this. No choice. Even if there was, the only way to figure out what the heck was going on was to go along with them. "Fine," he resolved. "Let's hit it." His arms were pulled behind his back, a zip tie pulled tight but not painfully so. A black hood was slipped over his head, mask and all, "Hey, dude, is there polyester in that? I'm allergic to polyester," and he was led forward. It struck him that _They waited for my permission. Since when do Foot clowns ask nicely? _They _were_ being kind of…nice. Forcedly polite. And it scared him. He'd much rather them knock him around a little. _What the shell is going on?_


	4. Like Son

Act IV

Mikey felt the van come to a stop. They'd put a black hood over his head, mask and all. He would've figured the first thing they'd do was take his mask off. Wasn't that always what the bad guys were trying to do in the comics? De-mask the intrepid, charismatic, undefeatable hero? Find out his secret identity and whatnot? He wasn't really sure what that would gain these goons. But still. If you're gonna be a villain, you should at least go by the book. It was the principle of the thing. And besides, in the comics, right before the bad guy takes the superhero's mask off, something big happens, and there's a big turnaround, and suddenly the good guy's back on top. _So if they don't try to take my mask off, how the heck am I gonna know when the big turnaround's supposed to happen? _"You know, this whole thing's been pretty much a disappointment from the get-go. First of all, if you guys want to claim space as arch nemesisses—nemeses?— of me and my bros, I gotta get you a manual or something. Your outfits are horrible, I haven't heard _one _maniacal laugh, and to top it all off, not a single one of you has gone off on a wicked tirade outlining the evil genius of your master plan." He sniffed. "Amateurs. You guys wouldn't make it on Saturday morning _cartoons._"

"Shut up." The voice came from his right, and the man sounded like he was at the very edge of his patience.

"That's a _little_ bit better. But…about as scary as some of the stuff in the Sunday Funnies. No offense. I'm just saying you should step up your game…"

"I said shut _up!_"

Mikey sensed the movement to his right, and he flinched, almost with a kind of relief, from the blow he knew was coming. _Finally the bad guys start acting like the bad buys…_ But before the man could land the punch, there was the quiet _thud_ of cloth hitting cloth. Mikey blinked beneath the shroud. _What the?_

A sharp, even voice came from the man to Mike's left. "You will not harm him." The young Hamato couldn't believe it. The guy had _caught the man's fist? Really?_

"Kid was practically asking for it!"

"Dude, if I'd known you were in such a giving mood, I would've asked for something more useful. Like ice cream. Or a bazooka. Ooh, or Bazooka gum. Or even possibly Bazooka gum _ice_ _cream_."

"Someone needs to shut him up," Angry Guy insisted…angrily.

He was answered by that calm, cool voice. "If it is silence you desire, by all means, teach the boy a lesson. For when the master finds this child marked by your hand, you may enjoy a world of stillness, for the very least he will do to you is peel the ears away from your empty skull."

There was a brief moment of silence Michelangelo had to interrupt with a short, "Ew."

A rustle of fabric signaled the release of the man's hand, followed by some unintelligible and probably unrepeatable grumblings.

Michelangelo sat in silence for a moment, possibly two, his mind wandering back to his brothers and then reminding itself not to go there. "So where are we going?" His question was met with silence. "This 'master' guy you were talking about—I'm assuming that's Tatsu, right? The ear thing…that sounds his stile." More silence. This was getting ridiculous. "Um. Anyone up for 'Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall'? Angry Guy, you take the first verse." Not even a grunt of acknowledgment. Mikey sighed. "You guys suck."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_By some miracle, Raphael had managed not to roll his eyes when he saw his father walk into the dojo with the human. _You gotta be freakin' kidding me_, he thought angrily, running through his warm-ups on autopilot. Splinter settled the kid in, making sure he was comfortable sitting up against the wall by the doorway, with a full view of everything going on. _Geeze. I knew the punk had gotten to Donny. Didn't figure on Splinter fallin' into his trap_. Not that Raph was heartless. He had a heart. Apparently the human had had it rough. Yeah. That sucked. Raph figured he could identify. But he didn't want this human sticking around _his_ lair a second longer than he absolutely had to, and he had no intention of getting in any way attached. Way he figured it, the sooner the kid realized he wasn't wanted, the sooner he'd get back up topside with the rest of them. Kid didn't belong here. Simple as that. Heck, the kid was a _human_. 'Nough said._

_Splinter walked out of the dojo, going to get cushions or blankets or something. Had to make sure the human was _comfortable_. It was really starting to grate. Donny hadn't shown up, yet. It was still a little early. Which of course meant Leo was already there and warming up right next to him. "What's Donny's new pet doing in here?" he asked, words soaked with sarcasm. "It's one thing we had to eat with it. This is supposed to be our time."_

_If he'd been hoping Leo would go along with him, those hopes were pretty much killed. Brutally. "You know, Raph, that's it. What's your problem? You don't have to act like such a jerk. He's sitting right there. He can hear you, you know." The blue-banded turtle had actually stopped moving, stepping up to him, eyes all fierce with Leo-anger. Raph should've known. Leo always was one for a cause._

_"Yeah. And?"_

_"So why don't you quit acting like you've got a stick up your butt before I decide to replace it with my foot?"_

_Raph nearly raised his eye ridges. Leo must be _really_ annoyed. "Heh. And you say _I'm_ the cranky one. Get a grip, Leo. Ain't like I'm makin' fun of Donny."_

_"Who's making fun of me?" The purple-clad turtle appeared just then, bo in hand, and moved to stretch out. He saw his little friend behind them. Kid was looking kinda unsure. That annoyed Raph, too. The human had to have heard them talking. He should be mad. But no, he just looked kinda…lost or something. _Kid doesn't even react the right way_. Donny was already jogging over there, though, grinning like he did whenever he built a new toy. "Hey. Aren't you supposed to be resting and recuperating?"_

_The human grinned. Raph rolled his eyes. Donny would grin, human would grin. Human would grin, Don would grin. It was like a freaking grinfest every time the two were in the same room. Raph had noticed it at breakfast. "I wanted to watch. Mr. Splinter said I could."_

_Mr. Splinter. Isn't _that_ adorable. Raph hit a punching bag._

_"See? I knew you and him would like each other. You probably haven't seen anything like this before, I bet."_

_The boy shrugged. "Well, I wouldn't know, right?"_ Psh. Amnesia. Riiight.

_"Well, you're going to love it. We're pretty good. Leo's probably the best of us." Raph took issue to that. "Raph's good, too." _Gee. Thanks, Don_. "And I'm pretty okay."_

_"I bet you got your moments," the kid offered in his quiet kind of loyal puppy sort of way._

"_Hey, Don. You come in here to yap or to practice?" Raph called over. "You can play with the human later." Raph saw Don's scowl, but he didn't much care. He liked his little brother. He did. But the way the younger turtle was fawning all over the human was really irritating._

_Splinter came in then, sure enough, dropping off the cushions and blankets for the outsider. The three turtles lined up oldest to youngest and bowed in. Master Splinter started calling out terms in Japanese, and they did the corresponding moves. Then they would move to katas, then to sparring, Splinter teaching and correcting and commenting along the way. As his heart rate increased and he focused on each move, working on upping his power more than anything else, his mind kept shifting back to the intruder sitting by the door of the dojo, watching him. He tried not to think about it, to ignore the whole thing, but it prickled just under his skin. He didn't want that human here. Not in _his_ home. Not with _his_ family._

Raphael could suddenly feel every muscle in his body. And it was like every muscle in his body had a rubber band ball stuck right in the middle of it. He groaned. _Geeze, what, did I fall asleep on the couch again?_ It was really time for a new couch. First thing after the sun went down, he was grabbing the guys and they were going furniture shopping—garbage dump style. Maybe they'd give April a call. She was a chick. She'd appreciate that kind of thing, right? And if they called April, they could call Casey who would hate it and annoy her enough that she'd send him and Raph away, and he could get out of the whole thing altogether. Nice. But this thing he was lying on now, it had more lumps than a bowl of poorly made Malt-O-Meal. He took a deep breath. Then wished he hadn't. _Whoa. Don't remember the couch smelling like _that_. _"Oi," he muttered, trying to pry his eyes open. Why were they so heavy?

He finally managed to push himself up, blinking sluggishly. It took about 1.7 seconds for him to realize he was _not _home on the couch. He was in an alley. In a pile of trash bags. Raph vaulted up, sputtering, instinctively rubbing at his face and his arms, mind racing to put together where he was and what he was doing there. _The pawn shop. _He was back behind it. Last thing he remembered…That sting on his neck. Everything going dark. _I been freakin' drugged!_ Which meant they'd been attacked. His brothers. Where were his brothers?

He heard a sudden moan from behind him. He spun around, sais coming out on reflex. In the darkness, he saw Leo's arm flop out from among the garbage bags. "Leo!" he whispered loudly, eyes still checking the area for any would-be attackers. He was immediately at his brother's side, taking him by the arm. "Leo, wake up."

His older brother groaned. "Man, we need a new couch," he mumbled.

"True enough. Leo, get up, man. We ain't at home. Something happened at the pawn shop. They dosed us with something."

And Leo's eyes were open. "The Foot!"

Raph's jaw stiffened. "Of course it was," he mumbled.

"Donny, Mike?"

"Gee, I knew I was forgettin' somebody. This is why we gotta get a roll sheet." Raph pulled Leo to his feet, though they were both a little wobbly. "Don," he called softly into the darkness. "Mikey?"

"I've got Donny over here," Leo called. "He's waking up. Donny, you with me?"

"Mm, Leo? What…?"

"You're supposed to say 'present,'" Raph said from his end of the trash heap as he searched for the last of the foursome. He was getting some serious bad vibes from the whole situation, and he knew the other two could feel it, too. Something was so way wrong. They got freaking drugged by the Foot and just…left outside? They even still had their weapons with them. What the shell? Not to mention, the Foot had known where they were going to be. The whole thing reeked of a setup. As opposed to the garbage which just reeked. Question was, though: a setup for what?

"Mikey," he called as he searched. "Mikey, you better moan or groan or whine or somethin', 'cause if you can hear me and aren't saying nothin' I will personally kick your scrawny ninja butt." Nothing. Raph's unease began to grow. "Leo, I ain't finding him over here."

He could hear his own worries echoed in his brother's voice as Leo called Mikey's name. Don was more fully conscious now, and quick as he was, the purple-banded turtle had put it together, too. He'd started frantically digging in the bags. Raph checked the nearby alley. The three turtles had searched the entire alley and the pawn shop before Donny finally said what the other two couldn't. "He's not here." And Donny sounded scared. And Donny was the logical one. He didn't scare so easy. He shook his head, breathing quick. "He's not here."

"He's gotta be," Raph said lowly, maybe even a little desperately. "Why would they take him and not any of us?"

Leo was standing in the middle of the alley. "They…they…" And the sure one suddenly looked unsure. "I don't know. But just because we don't know the reason doesn't mean…doesn't mean that they wouldn't." Raph's mind put that thought together way too fast. Because if they _wouldn't _have taken Mikey, it might mean that they didn't _have _Mikey. And while it was bad enough to think that they might _have _Mikey, it was way worse to think that maybe they'd…disposed of him? No. That didn't even make any sense.

"Why him? Why him and not us?" Raph demanded.

"I don't know," Leo admitted, frustration and fear clear to anyone who knew him well—which meant both of his brothers. "But this whole thing feels like a trap. And since we're not sure what that trap is, we need to tread really, really carefully."

"Tread carefully?" Raph repeated incredulously. "Those nimrod ninja wannabes make off with our kid brother, and you wanna tread carefully? If you ask me, the time for treading carefully ended when that stinkin' blow dart hit me in the neck! I say we find those goons and get our brother back!"

"And you're right!" Leo yelled back. "That's what we're _going_ to do!" He took a step closer to Raph. "I'm gonna get him back, and he's going to be _fine_, but in the meantime, I am _not _gonna risk either of your lives, and I'm gonna make _real_ sure I'm not playing into their hands by leading them back to Splinter. So we're gonna go fast, and we're gonna go careful, and we're gonna hunt down every lead we find, and we're gonna stay _together_, and if you want to fight me on this Raph, fine, but you can do it _after _we get Mikey back." Leo's eyes were steel, his whole body rigid and unmovable.

Raph took a deep breath though his nose. It was times like these Leo proved how strong he actually was. Times like these that Raph let himself draw on Leo's strength. Times like these he'd thank his brother for someday. "We'll get him," Raph nodded. He looked at Donny, noted the purple-masked turtle's wide eyes and the tight lines around his mouth. He touched Don's shoulder, repeating the words almost mantra-style. "We'll get him."

Donny nodded back. "We should check every known center of Foot activity. And the Proud Tide territory, too. They've been having some kind of turf war lately, so we might find some Foot there. I'll call in Casey and April. Should I…?" he trailed off.

Raph shook his head. "Let him sleep. He'll just worry all night."

"I'll call him," Leo cut in. He looked at his brothers. "He doesn't sleep till we come home. He'd worry all night anyway. He needs to know." He nodded, resolved. "I'll call him."

Raph watched Leo's shell as they headed out for the nearest payphone. Usually so natural and flowing, Leo's movements were stiff and mechanical. Raph felt a wave of guilt. He knew Leo felt responsible for his brothers just as much as Raph did. Leo carried the burden of leadership on top of that. And now the oldest brother was going to have to call their father in the middle of the night and tell Splinter that he hadn't been able to protect his youngest son. It wasn't a responsibility Raph envied, but it sure as shell felt like his fault. _**I**__ couldn't protect him, _Raph thought furiously._Again._

_As morning training ended, Leo watched as Raph more or less stormed out of the dojo. He held in a sigh. He'd be lying if he said he knew what exactly was going on with his hotheaded younger brother. Raph didn't like their guest. That was plain enough. What Leo didn't understand was why. As far as Leo knew, Raph had spent exactly zero time with the youngster, and the child had been there less than a day. Not that Leo had been exactly thrilled with the idea of a human at first, but he wasn't going to be a jerk about it, especially not to some little kid. Besides, Donny really liked the little guy, and Donny spent too much time by himself—working on projects or out skating around in the tunnels and stuff. It was good for him to get out of his room._

_Leo caught Master Splinter's eyes. It was obvious the elderly rat had also noticed Raph's behavior. Leo had been trying to decide whether it was worth talking to Raph about or if he should just let it go since the human probably wouldn't be with them much longer anyway. Something in his master's eyes, though, made him feel the need to follow after his brother. He stopped in the doorway first, looking at the human boy who was watching him curiously. Splinter moved past, touching Leo's shoulder as he did, and retreated toward his room. Leo looked at the boy. If he was going to talk to Raph, he should probably try to gather a little intelligence first. He squatted down in front of the boy._

_"Hi."_

_"Hi." The little guy blinked up at him shyly._

_"Where'd Donny run off to?"_

_"He said he had something to show me. He went to go get it."_

_"Ah. Hey, can I ask you something?"_

_"Yes."_

_"My brother Raph…Have you and he…Did you…say something to him?" After all, Leo reasoned, if Raph really had something against the kid, there had to be a reason why._

_"Not really. Raphael hates me." Leo blinked. The reply sounded so simple. The little boy didn't seem surprised or even really hurt by this. He'd just stated it like a fact. The earth revolves around the sun. And Raphael hates me. Like that._

_"Wha…um. I'm sure it's not that he hates you. He doesn't even know you. You've only been here…a few hours."_

_The boy's face twisted into a puzzled frown. "You don't gotta know somebody to hate 'em. Usually, you only gotta know one thing that you hate. After that, why would you wanna get to know more things?"_

_Leo stared a little bit, surprised. "Well, okay. What is it you think Raph knows about you that he hates?"_

_A tiny shrug. "I'm different."_

_"You mean because you're human."_

_"I guess," he shrugged, though this time he did seem a little sad. "But I was different before I came here." He stopped and then amended, "I mean…probably. I don't really remember."_

_Leo pressed his lips together as he thought about that. Then Donny ran in with his remote control car. "Hey, Leo."_

_The kid's eyes caught sight of Donny's pride and joy and grew about three sizes. "Whoa," he whispered in the purest kind of awe. "That. Is. Awesome."_

_Leo stood as an all but beaming Donny took his place. "Thanks. Let me show you how it works. This, obviously, controls the steering. This right here puts it in drive or reverse…" Leo listened to him prattle on about it for a little bit, talking a mile a minute and saying "Well, actually" a lot, which Don always did when he was in excited teacher mode. Leo liked seeing his brother like this. Donny was an academic type, smarter than all of them, and sometimes he got too serious for his own good. Excited Donny was something Leo would be happy to see more often._

_"Hey." He nudged the human kid on the head with his knuckle, and guarded blue eyes shot up to look at him. "Different's not always a bad thing, you know?"_

_The kid looked blankly at him for a second before he got it. He smiled, looking pointedly at the mutant turtle and borrowed one of Don's favorite words. "Obviously."_

_Leo grinned and left them to it, heading out to search for Raph. Surprise, surprise, when he found the red-masked turtle in his room, the hothead didn't want to talk._

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Michelangelo felt the car pull to a stop before the calm voice said, "We are here."

"Great. You guys go ahead. I'll park the car."

"Come, young one." The hand that took him by the arm and guided him out of the vehicle was firm but carefully gentle. _Apparently the guy values his ears. _"The master waits."

"Oh. Well. Wouldn't want to keep the master waiting. Wanna tell me what exactly he's waiting _for_?"

"He wishes to speak with you."

Yeah. There was really no possible way that could be good. "O-kay. But you know, in my experience, good ol' Tatsu's not exactly the conversational type…"

"Tatsu is not my master."

"Oh," Mike said dumbly. So…somebody had beat out the old dragon for the top spot. Fantastic. Nothing like walking blindfolded in to face a new enemy with zero working knowledge on who the heck said enemy was. _And on a Monday no less._

He was led up some steps, his captor taking care that he didn't stumble or trip or…break a nail or anything. Inside some kind of building, he heard the sounds of sparring and training come to a sudden stop at his arrival and caught a few muffled whispers like "That's him," and "It's the turtles' pet." Mikey felt his whole body stiffen even as he was led past.

"Training kind of late, aren't you guys?" he asked blindly. No one offered a response, not that he expected them to. _This is their headquarters, _he realized, stomach tightening with the thought. _They brought me to the _Foot headquarters_! Why? Oh, this can't be good. _He was led up a flight of stairs and down a creaky hallway.

"Awesome," he muttered. "Out of the pot and into the…kettle, right? Wait, no, that's not it. Unless…the pot's calling the kettle black, which…doesn't really fit here. Out of the pan and into the lions den? No. Out of…"

"Out of the frying pan, into the fire." The deep voice cut through Mikey's chest like a knife, shaking him to his core. He'd know that voice anywhere. He suddenly felt numb.

"No," he heard himself whisper. "It can't be him."

Without warning, the hood was pulled from his eyes, and any hope he'd had that he might've been hallucinating was brutally ripped away. Before him towered the one beast from his nightmares he'd _known _he'd never see again. The mutated man stood several yards away, but the distance didn't do anything to make him seem less huge. He had to be like nine feet tall, a modern day Goliath for sure. Without his trademark armor, the Japanese ninja master wasn't any less intimidating, either, his traditional dogi doing little to camouflage the huge muscles bulging beneath it. "The Shredder," Mikey breathed. Then he coughed and forced tense muscles to relax ever so slightly. "So…this is kinda like déjà vu all over again."

The super-sized Shredder was looking at him with the most bizarre expression Mikey had ever seen on his scarred face. The usual hateful rage wasn't there. Neither was that irritating air of superiority. The man looked…reflective or something. It was the most human Mikey had ever seen him look…which was ironic considering the guy was now a total mutant.

"Indeed," Shredder said softly, mouth forming into a grim line as his eyes seemed to look to some faraway place. "More so than you realize, my young ninja."

Mike's eyes widened and he took a mental step back. "Okey doke, my unpleasant weirdness scale has officially been tipped freaking over. If you don't want to see my eyes pop out of my head or something, I'm gonna need some answers, starting with what you did to my brothers and ending with why the shell you're not dead. And if you _do_ want to see my eyes pop out of my head or something…well…good. 'Cause that would seem way more in character coming from you."

The Shredder's sharp command consisted of "Leave us," and it took Mikey a second to figure out the man was talking to the ninja who'd been Mike's escort thus far. The ninja bowed low and slipped silently from the room. Michelangelo kept his eyes on the 400-pound gorilla in the room. For his part, Shredder never took his eyes from Mikey with that same implacable searching expression. It was _really_ unnerving.

"So." Mikey refused to give any ground. "What's your angle, and what do my brothers have to do with it?" A horrible thought suddenly dawned on him, and he swallowed convulsively. "This isn't one of those take-out-the-cute-little-brother-to-break-their-spirits kind of plans is it?" He squirmed against his restraints, knowing as he did how pointless it was. "'Cause I'll tell you straight out that plan sucks. I mean really you'll just tick 'em off, and they fight better when they're mad. And we already kicked your can twice without the extra incentive of me being dead, and…"

Shredder lowered his eyes and stepped across the room to the weapons display, taking up a small ornate dagger without a word. Mikey's voice sped up as he realized, _This is really it. _He was going to die. Like this. A weapon used to hurt his family.

"…and it's not gonna help you out any. I'm just saying. You should probably just give up now. In fact, if you surrender now, I'll…uh…accept. Don't…"

In a flash, the Shredder lunged, dagger in hand. Mikey barely had time to shut his eyes before…_thwick._ The zip tie around his wrists fell to the floor. Mikey opened his eyes, breathing hard through his mouth. It took about four seconds for it to really sink in that he was still alive. He tilted his head back, finding his enemy's eyes locked onto his own. "Well." Mikey swallowed. "You move pretty quick for a big guy, don'tcha?"

The Shredder watched him for another moment before turning and walking toward the Shredder-sized chair on the far wall, setting the dagger down on the way. "I did not bring you here to kill you. And my orders were that the turtles not be harmed. They are most likely awakening even as we speak."

Mikey rubbed at his wrists. "Yeah? Well, great. I'm just gonna go run by Starbucks, then. Raph is always _really _cranky before his first cup of coffee. Especially after he justgot_ tranqued._"

"There was no way to draw you out without involving them."

Mikey paused for just a second, jolted by the fact that he and the Shredder were really having this conversation—having _a_ conversation-with him. "So this really is about me," he realized. What's weird is that made him feel better and worse at the same time.

Shredder nodded once as he sat down. "Yes. I needed to speak with you."

"Me? Why? You've never shown a whole lot of interest in me before. Not that I'm not totally flattered, but dude…" He shook his head. "And don't get me wrong. I'm great at small talk. But once we get past the weather and the Yankees and who you liked for Idol last season, what could there possibly be for you and me to talk about?"

In answer, the man reached into some hidden pocket and retrieved an item that caused Michelangelo's mouth to drop open and any other comment he could've made die in his throat. The locket. "I believe you will find we have much to talk about." The man placed the necklace in the palm of his hand and held it out to the boy in offering. "You see," he said, almost softly, "I believe I know who you really are."

Mikey swallowed, taking step after slow, careful step toward the locket. He took it from the large hand, letting out a deep breath as he felt its familiar weight, his thumb ghosting over the worn pattern etched into the front. Checked the picture inside to make sure it was still there. Yes. He closed his eyes just for a second. Then he looked at the Shredder. "You don't know anything." He didn't expect the Shredder's counter-statement.

"I know the woman whose picture you carry around your neck. Tell me. Is she you mother?"

Mikey blinked and turned angrily away, shaking his head. "You're such a liar. Just do whatever you're going to do to me, but you don't get to pry into…"

Shredder was suddenly standing, and he caught Mikey by the shoulders, spinning him back around to face him. "Tell me! I must know." He stared straight into Mikey's eyes, making the young ninja feel as exposed as if the man had ripped his mask right off his face. "_Is she your mother_?" Mikey glared back. He hated this guy. Like it really mattered to the Shredder who the heck his mother was. But Michelangelo would never deny having belonged to this woman.

"Yes," he said evenly with as much defiance as he could muster.

Then the Shredder did something Mikey had never heard him do. He sighed. Not a growl or a grunt. A _sigh._ The hands dropped from Mikey's shoulders, and the man took a step back, looking at Michelangelo with those dark eyes normally so full of hate that they seemed not quite human. Now they just looked so…real. "Then yes," he said slowly. "I know who you are, Oroku Ryoichi." He pulled out an old Polaroid and handed it to Mikey, his voice holding something like sadness. Mikey's eyes widened and his mind spun as he realized what he was looking at. It was _her_…with _him._And in her arms…a baby. Oroku Saki's voice cut through his thoughts. "You are my son."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Hamato Splinter sat in his room, candles lit, attempting to quiet his mind and knowing how futile those attempts were. His _child_ was missing. His little one. He'd heard the guilt and despair in Leonardo's voice as he relayed what had happened, and the master had done his best to quell that guilt and ease that despair despite his own quickly rising panic. He believed he'd done an effective job of that on the phone with his eldest, but now, alone in his room, he felt the rushing panic—felt like he was drowning in it.

April and Casey were with his three sons, scouring the city for Michelangelo. Splinter knew he must stay in the lair in case his boy returned. April and Casey both had cell phones, and he'd be able to get word to them that Michelangelo was all right. And they'd also be able to reach him. But even so, to sit in the warmth of his own home while his son was missing…it felt so wrong to the father's heart.

Splinter finally gave up on meditating and began doing something that was not in his nature. He began to pace. Back and forth in his room. His mind chided him of the futility and lack of discipline this action represented, but his heart was stronger at the moment, and it won out. When Raphael had been captured by the Foot only a couple of months earlier, he'd felt similar emotions. Indeed, his feet had gotten something of a workout that night, as well. But at that time at least they'd known what had happened. At least they'd known where he was. But now, these events as Leonardo described them…they were submerged in dark mystery. To say Splinter was troubled was a grievous understatement. His heart was in agony.

He loved Michelangelo. The sixteen-year-old had a rebellious spirit that made him both incredibly irritating and remarkably resilient. The old master knew he'd been somewhat more lenient in raising the boy than he had been with his other three. He knew this and made no apology for it. He knew his three older sons did not hold it against him, that truly, they were as guilty of making allowances for the youngest as he was. Not only did Splinter make no apology, he believed wholeheartedly that that eight-year-old child he'd met eight years previous needed every bit of the extra affection to make up for those years he'd chosen never to speak of. Certainly, Splinter had had a lot of tragic conditioning to undo, and the fact that he and his sons had managed to turn that little boy who jumped at every sound into a happy young man who dared to tease his master on a regular basis, was something Splinter held dear to, something he took pride in. And he would not for the world give his fourth son up.

_Two more days passed, much as that first. Donatello spent most of his time with his new friend, talking and teaching and laughing and fussing over this and that. Splinter had only ever seen this mother hen side of his youngest son on the rare occasions when Leonardo or Raphael were sick or injured. For his part, Donatello seemed to slide into this self-appointed care-taker role quite naturally. And the little one hardly seemed to know what to do with all the attention. He still flinched from sudden sounds and was far from being able to accept casual affection—a hand on the shoulder or a pat on the head. But he smiled so much more. Laughed. He was even starting to talk more without trailing off uncertainly like he'd been prone to do at first. Every day, he seemed shocked and delighted to be allowed to stay a little longer. Leonardo too, it seemed, had begun to warm up to the child. Raphael, of course, was another story. The middle turtle appeared to avoid the human boy as much as possible, and when impossible to avoid him, Raphael gave no illusion of warmth. Splinter had an idea of the problem, but believed it a better solution to give it more time before confronting the issue._

_Late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, Splinter awoke with the vague sense he'd heard something amiss, though everything seemed still and quiet as he sat up in his bed. He leaned forward, sensitive ears straining to pick up whatever out-of-place sound had awakened him. At first, he only heard the usual—dripping water and faraway traffic. Then he heard something else. A voice. Just barely discernible, coming from the dojo. Silently, Splinter rose and left his room, stopping in the shadows of the dojo entryway. At first he frowned at what he saw. Then he smiled._

_The little one was there._

_His movements were a little slow as he made allowances for his still-healing body, but as the master watched, the boy worked his way through the entire kata he'd been working on with his sons that week. The boy hadn't missed a practice since his arrival, sitting quietly to the side, observing with unreadable eyes. Now his moves were slightly awkward at parts, and his stances were not always precise, but he remembered all the steps. And as he went through it, he talked to his "four invisible attackers," keeping his voice low._

_"Oh-hoh, too slow. Sorry, not gonna get another chance at that one. Bam! Yeah, thought so, dude. Where'd you learn to fight, ballet school? 'Cause you forgot your slippers." The boy grinned at his own comments, clearly enjoying himself as he moved through the form. "And, oh, what's this? Ladies and gentlemen, we're down to one on one! And he blocks, moves right, a jab to the throat, takes him down, and I don't believe it! It's over! And the crowd goes wild! Haaaahhhhh!" As he finished the form, he paused for a moment and then kept going, this time making up his own little kata. "Oh, sorry, what was that? Buddy, you picked the wrong guy to mess with today. Yeah." Improvising, his movements seemed much more fluid. Natural. "Uh, dude, that was a nice try, but you'll never win a fight with that attitude. Come on, try again. Nope, that's not it. And now you're down. And how about you, big boy? No looks _and_ no personality? This whole fighting thing's all you got, huh? Ooh, snap. Looks like you got nothin'." Splinter watched for several more moments, his smile growing at the fun and light and joy the little one could bring to the art, the stiffness in his movements gradually fading away as abused muscles warmed to their task. It was a joyful dance, taunting and jabbing and giggling. Finally, the little boy gently dropped to the mat, rolling carefully onto his back, breathing hard, a giant grin splitting his face. It warmed an old master's heart. Splinter briefly considered making his presence known. The boy should be resting, after all. But he dismissed the idea. The little one was having fun._

_"Aw, what?" the little boy breathed. "You want some more? Bring it, cheese face. That was just Round 1." And he was up and going again._

_Splinter could not go back to bed, rationalizing that he should watch over the young one, should he accidentally hurt himself. So he stood guard for the next several minutes until the little boy had worn himself out, listening as the little warrior had effectively pulverized all his imaginary enemies (to whom he started giving names—Franklert Sponges, Muscles McKnuckles, and Larceny Parsnip to list a few). And the child who seemed to try so hard to be careful what he said around Splinter and the turtles, seemed to run out of steam long before he'd run out of words. So the boy had a secret imagination-one worthy of envy. Splinter knew the child was still less than a hundred percent physically, and could only imagine what the seemingly tireless boy would be like once those vast energy stores of his were fully fueled._

_Splinter moved aside, melting into the shadows, as the boy eventually made his way to the door. He watched as the child looked around, seeing that all the doors to bedrooms were still closed before padding out into the common room and his spot on the couch, bare feet making hardly a sound. As the child was settling himself in among the blankets and pillows, Splinter made his stealthy way back to his own room. As the old rat lay back in bed, his mind replayed the scene he had just witnessed. _He could be one of us_. The thought came unbidden, and Splinter had to mentally shake himself. That was not so. The boy belonged above with his own kind. A sewer was too bleak a place to spend a childhood, and Splinter regretted the necessity of raising his own sons in such an environment. The boy's future would be much brighter out in the sunshine._

_It made sense. But as Splinter drifted into sleep, one more thought crossed his mind about the young nighttime ninja. _Why is it the boy does not sleep_?_

In an abandoned subway station beneath the streets of New York City, time passed as it did for the rest of the world. But here, seconds felt like minutes. Minutes were as days. Hours passed more slowly than the changing seasons. And still the father of a lost child—no matter that that child was a skilled ninja warrior—paced about his small room, marking the time by the shortening of his candles. _Be safe, my little one._


	5. What Is Truth

Act V

Mikey stood frozen for eleven seconds with his eyes trapped in that photo. She had the baby in one arm, and the other was obviously being used to hold up the camera as she leaned against…_him_, her face lit and smiling. And _he _stood with her, looking like a normal person, his eyes on her and softer than seemed possible. It made Mikey feel like physically sick. The ninja cleared his throat. "And…meeting adjourned." He let the picture—and it had to be a fake—fall from his hand without even bothering to see where it landed, and turned toward the door. He actually wasn't too worried. Shredder was a sick, lying monster. But this time, his lie was just too far out there. It was like he'd said there was a pack of giant leprechauns poised to take over the world, or that gravity was actually a myth and all the planets were about to fly off into space. Or that Keanu Reeves was a great actor. It just didn't fit with the conventions of sound reasoning.

"Wait."

Mikey kept walking. "Look, I liked _The Matrix_ and everything, and he was good in _Bill and Ted_, but honestly…"

"Ryoichi." The Shredder's voice held something of a question and something of a command.

Mikey stopped but didn't turn. "I don't know what that word means."

"It is your name, a name I gave you sixteen years ago."

"False. My name is Michelangelo. In fact, that's Mr. Hamato to you. Wait, no, you know what? You don't get to call me anything at all. Just do your howl of anger thing in my general direction, and I'll get that you're talking to me. But whatever angle you're trying to play here is really, really stupid because it's crazy impossible. I give you props for your PhotoShop skills, dude, but if you ever mention my mom again, I will punch you in the throat. Now, are you gonna torture me or something, or can I go, or do I gotta escape or what? 'Cause if that's all…"

"She always called you Richie." Mikey stopped at this quiet statement, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He turned slowly, almost against his will, to find those black eyes boring into him. "I chose a more traditional Japanese name for you, but she liked to call you Richie. She told me it fit you more soundly, though she could never give me a reason why she thought this." He looked away. "She was most likely right. It seemed she was always right when it came to you."

"Stop," Mikey said angrily. This man couldn't know that. Couldn't know what she had called him. Richie. Nobody…nobody knew about that. He'd never even told his family. Richie died with her.

"There was a song she used to sing to you. Perhaps you do not remember. You were very young."

Mikey's eyes widened. "No," he begged softly. He couldn't… "Don't."

"It was a song her father had sung to her in Ireland when she was a young girl. I can only recall some of the words." The man paused and spoke the lyrics softly. " 'Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee All through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee All through the night. Hill and dale in slumber sleeping…'" He stopped.

Mikey felt a sadness and longing and horror all rolling around inside him, even as he whispered, " 'I my loving vigil keeping. All through the night.'" He hadn't heard those words aloud since he was five. He bowed his head. This wasn't happening. "It's not true," he held stubbornly.

"It is."

Mikey raised his eyes, shook his head. "Even if it was, what the heck kind of difference does it make to you? What do you want?"

"The turtles and I are enemies."

"Doi."

"It is clear that we will not stop fighting until one side or the other has been defeated."

"Hey, if you think I'd ever even consider jumping to your side, I'm thinking you've been screwing your funny hat on too tight."

"You've been turned against me."

"By you. 'Cause you're evil."

"I knew you would not be swayed to join me so easily. But regardless of my feelings toward the ones you call family, it is not my desire to see your life forfeit because of a feud that is not your own."

"It is my own."

"If you face my forces in battle alongside the turtles, it is very possible I will not be able to protect you."

"That supposed to be a threat?"

"It is only a regret," he said, voice never matching the angry tones Mikey had heard before. "One of many. You have been lost to me for nearly fourteen years. It is not my desire to watch you fall."

"Touching."

"I would think that knowing what you now know, neither would you be so quick to wish for my demise."

"Dude, I've essentially seen you die twice. Didn't lose any sleep then."

The man just looked at him. "I was not your father then."

"You aren't now." Mikey grit his teeth, glaring angrily up at the monster who claimed to be his father. "She wouldn't..." He had to stop and take a breath. "It was always just me and her. Not you. Not ever you."

"I loved her. I loved the child that was ours. For a few short years, I had more than I had ever known could be possible for one man to possess. She loved me as well, enough to become my wife. I never stopped looking for her. Nor for you. If ever I had known that the face beneath that mask you wear belonged to my son…"

Mikey shook his head furiously. Too much. Too hard. Keep it light. Don't think… There was just no way. "Stop," he whispered. "I'm never gonna believe you. Whatever you say. She wouldn't love you."

"She did. More than I deserved. And I will never make apologies for that love."

And that was more than the teen could take. With a yell, Mikey lunged at the man. Fists and feet flying, he attacked without any clear plan besides making his enemy stop talking. Each punch was blocked by large fists.

"Ryoichi. Do not!"

"Don't," Mikey commanded as he kept up, "call me that!" Every time he struck at the mutant, the block that met him felt like concrete. Mikey jabbed and ducked to kick at the Shredder's knee, but the huge man was too fast. Oroku Saki grabbed Mikey by the ankle, pulling him forward and then sweeping his other leg out from under him, controlling the fall. Mikey's back hit the wood floor, his arms pinned to his chest by a large hand. He was breathing hard, staring at the gruesomely scarred face of his enemy. Mikey struggled against the hand that held him, but it was useless. "She didn't love you," he seethed. "You're a killer. You…you probably killed her, didn't you? Just like you killed Tang Shin!" Shredder's face suddenly went hard, and his hand was suddenly drawn back like he was about to backhand the teen. "What are you gonna do?" Mikey yelled. "You gonna kill me, too? That how it usually ends for people you supposedly 'love', family man?"

"Enough!"

Helpless to avoid the blow, Mikey turned his head to the side. Except this one never came either. Instead, Shredder grabbed him by the front of his jacket, fisting the material in his hand, voice unyielding and flecked with something deeper than anger. "You speak of things you know nothing about. Now stop this," the Shredder said. "I never hurt your mother. I will not hurt you."

Those words by this man made a horrible, ugly feeling rise in Mikey's chest. "I don't believe you."

"You have no reason to. Nevertheless, it is the truth. Regardless of what you think of me, it is the truth. Whether or not you choose to accept it, my son," he looked Mikey in the eye, "it is the truth."

Mikey shook his head. "Let me leave," he breathed heatedly. "I wanna go."

The man paused for a moment. Then he slowly released his hold and stood. Turning, he knelt and picked up the discarded photograph in his large hands, holding it with a kind of reverence, like it was some kind of fragile, ancient relic. "I will not keep you here against your will."

Mikey arose from the floor. "You _brought_ me here against my will."

"I had no choice. I only required that you listen. You have now heard all I needed to say. I believe when you have calmed down you will have questions, things about your mother and about myself, things you were never told. You may return with them when you are ready so long as you return alone."

Mikey couldn't believe it. The guy was just going to let him go. He was gonna drop this bombshell and then just let him go. No fight. No escape. He could just…go. "I hate you."

The man didn't react to the words at all. His eyes were still on that picture like he was a real person with real emotions and not the evil murderous ogre he was. "I know."

Chest burning, Michelangelo Hamato turned and walked to the door. With his hand on the handle, he suddenly paused. Closed his eyes. "What…" He stopped. He had to ask, couldn't go without knowing. He let out a breath, hating himself a little but not exactly sure why. "What was her name?"

The voice behind him carried no edge. "Olivia." The name was breathed gently like the whispers at a funeral. "Olivia Ivor."

Olivia Ivor. Eyes suddenly stinging, Mikey yanked the door open to see his nunchucks sitting there in the hall. He snatched them up and ran as fast as his legs would go. There was a window at the end of the hall, the glass missing, and Mikey didn't stop running. He vaulted out the window, catching himself on a tree, and swinging down until his feet hit the rocky soil below. And he kept running. With vision blurring and heart pounding and stomach aching, he ran and jumped, navigating through trees and across roads, and then up buildings and under bridges. He covered mile after mile, not feeling the hours pass as his feet automatically took him closer to the middle of the city, the precious pendant he now wore again bouncing against his chest all along the way. He had to get away. Had to get…home.

His feet suddenly slowed to a stop on their own, seemed like, in the shadows of an overpass. Home. To his family. His family who'd taken care of him for eight years like he was one of them. His family who'd done everything possible to _make _him one of them. But now…now he was…he was the son of their most hated enemy. And he couldn't even _do _anything about it. It wasn't fair. He felt hot tears well up in his eyes, and he leaned against a dirty wall as his legs folded under him. He sank to the ground, pulling his mask off over his head as fat, angry tears slid down his face. _How? How do I tell them about this? _He angrily threw his elbow back into the wall. What if everything…changed? It wasn't right. How could knowing something that had to have been true his whole life change _everything? _But it did. It really freaking did. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't sure what he'd find when he got home. _They'll…they'll still want me, right?_ And Splinter. How could he look Splinter in the eye and tell him that his adopted son was really the spawn of the man who'd murdered his master? Mikey's breaths caught in his lungs as he tried to just breathe. He shook his head, elbows resting on knees, and ran his fingers through sweaty hair. _Why is this happening to me? It's not fair. Why is this happening now?_

The only answer he got was a roll of thunder. Mikey looked up. He hadn't noticed the clouds in the night sky. It was New York. Not like you could ever see the stars on a clear night. But if it was about to rain, the sewers would fill up fast, and it could be hours before he could get back to the lair. He blinked. _What am I doing? I gotta see my brothers. They could be in trouble_. Whatever else happened after, he had to make sure they were safe. He'd have to move fast. He'd check the pawn shop first. Make sure his brothers weren't there. He had to see them. Make sure they really were okay. He couldn't trust the Shredder's word that they weren't hurt.

He stood and swiped his sleeve over his face. Pulled on his mask. He peeked out from under the overpass, and he ran, listening only to his breaths and his heartbeat, focused on where he was going. His eyes scanned all around him as he went, checking for any followers, counting steps and making jumps. He doubled back a few times to ensure he wasn't being tailed, using everything he could ever remember learning about stealth, concentrating, working everything else out of his head. He knew his brothers thought he sucked at concentrating. And they were right. But right then it was either concentrate or sit down and sob his heart out again because if he let himself think too much he'd realize that he was scared out of his mind. So that last one was so not an option.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

It was nearing six o'clock in the morning when the three turtles came one by one down the ladder each looking their own version of defeated, angry, and worried. Donny was first down the ladder, quiet as he had been for most of the past few hours since they'd woken up one Mikey short. They were all wet from the water that was quickly filling the sewers, but Don couldn't really feel it. He felt sort of numb, and it had nothing to do with the cold water.

"This is a waste a' time, Leo," Raph said loudly as he stomped down the ladder above Donny.

"You know it has to be done. We've got no choice." Truly, the turtle in blue sounded every bit as thrilled with their situation as Raph. With the rain starting to come down, everything got slick—dangerously slick. Add that to the fact that the sun was just about to come up, and the turtles had to take a momentary retreat. "Give it four hours. Rain should be up by then. In the meantime, get some rest. It's not going to help Mikey if we find him and we're too exhausted to help."

Raph waited for Leo's feet to touch the floor before he was in his face. "If you think I'm just gonna lay back and get a little shut-eye _right now_, you're…"

"Raph, what do you want me to do? I _know_! Okay? I know." Leo met his brother's glare head-on, helplessness morphing into anger.

Raph returned the glare and growled his frustration as he jerked away from his brother, stalking off toward his room. Leo's hands were fisted, and he turned and hit the door that led to what used to be a maintenance closet, putting a large dent in the hollow metal. With what looked like a great deal of effort, he calmed himself and made his way to his own car, shaking his head at Splinter who'd appeared in the doorway of his room. The rat lowered his head and nodded. Donny watched all this from the landing, mind going to what kind of day they'd be having if not in the midst of a catastrophe. They'd just be about to wake up and file in for a light breakfast before practice. Mikey would be the last one in, muttering some random incoherencies. Raph would pop him on the back of the head. Leo would hand Donny his coffee while making some comment about how it was bad for him. There'd be smiles and eye-rolls, and someone would end up annoyed. And it would all be so normal. It was scary how easily normal could get so screwed up.

Donny wandered over to his father. He didn't really have anything to say, but he didn't quite feel like being alone. He figured Splinter had to feel similar.

"You should rest," the master said.

Donny nodded. "I know." He made no move toward his room.

The old rat smiled weakly. "Come. I will make tea."

As he listened to the familiar sounds of his father preparing the tea, Donny let his mind wander back a few years.

"_Hey Donny?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"How come Mr. Splinter's a rat?"_

_Donatello looked up from the old TV set he was tinkering with at the question. The little human was lying on his back on the rug in Donny's room, playing with one of the turtle's old _Beast Wars_ action figures. The human was holding Optimus Primal up over his head, making quiet flying sounds._

_"Uh…what do you mean?"_

_"How come he's a rat and you're a turtle?"_

_Donny had no clue where this was going. "Be…cause we were all born that way?"_

_Optimus landed on the little human's stomach. "No, but I mean, how come you're a family if you're different?"_

_"I told you he adopted us remember?"_

_"Why?"_

_"Because you asked me."_

_"No, but why'd he adopt you? Why didn't he adopt some rat babies and make them grow up?"_

_"Oh. Well, it didn't work that way. Splinter didn't make us grow up this way. We just did. We're special." The turtle thought it was kind of funny. The little human would barely say a word out with the others, but when the two of them were alone, it was question after question after question._

_"Is that why he adopted you? 'Cause you're special?"_

_"I…" Donny paused. "I don't know. He adopted us because we needed him. Otherwise nobody would've taken care of us, and he couldn't let that happen."_

_"Why not?"_

_"Because…because he just couldn't. He loves us."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"He said so."_

_"Oh." Optimus fired a missile, and the little boy grinned. Donny figured the conversation was over with that. He was wrong. The little human reloaded the toy and pulled his face into an inquisitive frown. "Did he love you right when he met you or later on?"_

_"I don't know." Donny shrugged. "I was just a baby. Everybody loves babies."_

_"How do you know?"_

_"Because. That's how babies survive. If people didn't love them, they wouldn't take care of them, and since babies don't know how to do anything yet, they can't live by themselves. So adults take care of them until they can grow up and take care of babies themselves. And then those babies grow up and take care of more babies. And that's how we have so many people. And animals. Because everybody loves babies." He figured it was probably true. Sociologically speaking. It made sense anyway._

_The little boy chewed his lip skeptically as he tried to work out how to turn Optimus back to beast mode. "Everybody does?"_

_"Mm-hm."_

_"Well when does a baby turn into not a baby?"_

_Donny shook his head exasperated. "What do you mean?"_

_The little human rolled carefully over onto his stomach, still fiddling with the half-gorilla half-autobot, and looked at Donny. "Well, not everybody has people who love 'em, right? So if everybody loves babies and everybody starts out as babies, then how old do you gotta be to not be loved anymore?"_

_Donny paused. He…didn't know. "What do you think?" he asked._

_The little boy drew his brow together and pursed his lips as he either tried to figure out what it was he thought or just how to put it into words. "I think only parents love babies," he finally said. "And that's how Mr. Splinter knew he could be your dad." He finally twisted the legs around and held the completed gorilla up in triumph. "I did it."_

_Donny smiled at him. "You did. Nice." He thought a second. "So…Splinter doesn't love me because he's my dad. He's my dad…_because_ he loves me." The ten-year-old turtle had never really thought of it before. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if the rat had chosen not to take the turtles in. Splinter had been there for him his whole life. It hadn't ever occurred to him that the rat didn't have to be._

_The boy's eyes were already back on the toy. He gave a little shrug. "Prob'ly."_

_Splinter stuck his head in just then. "It is time for supper."_

_"We're coming," Donny assured him. Splinter nodded and moved out of the doorway. "Hey, Dad?" he called, suddenly needing to say something to his father._

_The ninja master quickly reappeared, question in his eyes, probably because the turtles hardly ever called him Dad anymore. "Yes, my son?"_

_"Thank you," he said almost without thinking._

_Splinter blinked. "For what?"_

_"I…um." Suddenly shy, Donny wasn't sure how to answer the question. "For…keeping us."_

_His master's eyes softened, and he seemed to understand what Donny was trying to say. Like he always did. "You are welcome, my son. Always." He bowed his head and left the room._

_Donny smiled and looked over at the little human. The child's eyes went immediately back to the toy, but not before Donny caught the most unimaginably wistful expression reflected in those blue eyes. _It isn't fair, is it? _he thought sadly. That was the first time the young mutant turtle realized exactly how lucky he was._

Donatello was pulled from his thoughts as he thought he heard the ladder hatch close. He was immediately on his feet, trying to prepare himself for what would greet him if it had only been his imagination, and failing miserably. He dashed out of the room, hope building, and what he found nearly made him sag in relief. His little brother, soaked from head to toe, was sliding down the ladder. It took him a moment to find his voice. "Thank God."

Mikey turned toward him looking really really _not _dead. "Oh. Donny. Hey." Despite the light, casual greeting, the human looked relieved in his own right. "You okay? Everybody okay?"

Donny's eye ridge raised in disbelief as a smile built on his face. He shook his head. "Are _we_…?" He was up the steps in a minute, grabbing his brother. "You're okay!" He suddenly pulled him back, holding the teen in place to check him out. "Wait, you are okay, right? You're not hurt anywhere? Nothing?"

Mikey was nodding. "Yeah. No. I'm fine. I mean, heh, soaked. Probably got pneumonia. But fine."

"Master Splinter! Guys!" And within about five seconds, they were swarmed by Leo and Raph, both talking a mile a minute.

"Bro! What the shell happened? We were lookin' everywhere for you! What'd you do?"

"We were so worried! How did you…? Were you captured? They didn't…You're not hurt, right? Donny, check him…"

Mikey pulled out of their reach, hands up, playing it off real casual, but something didn't seem quite right with his eyes. "Guys. Hey, I'm fine. They didn't do anything to me. Swear. What about you? That stuff they shot you with… No weird side effects or anything, right?"

Raph snorted. "Not unless the major urge to kick some Foot ninja tail is a side effect." He crossed his arms. "But I'm pretty sure it's a pre-existing condition."

"Dang. You know our insurance won't cover that."

Don refused to let the subject change. "What happened to you, Mikey?"

Mikey quickly glanced down. "I…"

"My son." Mikey looked up in time to be folded into a hug from his father. "It is good to have you home and safe, little one."

Donny watched Mike's face. Under his mask, the young ninja was suddenly blinking and swallowing like he was about to come apart. "Mikey? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Splinter immediately pulled back. Mikey dropped his head and rubbed at his eyes, pulling himself together. Don had been reading that kid's expression under that mask for years. And it was like the teen was trying to smile, but Donny could tell it was nothing like a real Mikey smile.

"What is it, my son?" Splinter asked.

"What? No, nothing. It's cool. Well, except I…I do have…news. Not good news. Actually, it's pretty crappy news. But…" He trailed off, eyes suddenly looking everywhere else except at them.

They were all quiet a moment, waiting. Then Raph prompted, "But?"

Mikey took a deep breath. "It's…it's the Shredder. He's not dead. Again."

A wave of shocked disbelief flew from each one of them. Leo shook his head. "That's impossible. What do you mean he's not dead? We all saw…"

Mikey winced. "Well, he's definitely…not as dead as we thought."

Donny shook his head, took a step closer to his brother. "I don't understand. You…saw him?"

"I did," Mikey nodded once. "Yep."

"So they didn't capture you; you…followed them?"

"No. Not really." The boy winced. He slid his mask over his head and busied himself with ringing it out, looking like he was trying really hard to keep his face neutral.

"Mikey, what's going on? Why'd we get ambushed? What happened to you? You look like you're about to be sick." Donny was getting really worried.

"He's not dead. He's still gigantic. And…um. Wow. Here's something different. He's my…He…" He bit his lip and blinked. Cleared his throat. Then he reached beneath his shirt and took out his necklace, reaching behind to undo the clasp. He held it up. "He gave me this back."

Mouth open, not even sure what to ask, Donny shook his head slightly. If he'd thought to look, he probably would've seen similar expressions on his other brothers' faces, too.

"He, ah, he knew things. About her. And there was a picture, and…" He trailed off again. It was way too un-Mike-like.

"Hey." Leo slowly reached out and touched his shoulder. "What is it, buddy? Whatever it is, bro, it's okay. Just tell us what happened."

Mikey ducked his head. "It appears as though…Shredder was…" He bit down, and his eyes got suddenly shiny. "He says he's my biological…father." And saying that looked like it did something to him. In the shocked silence that followed, he winced, and his face started to crumble.

Raph let out an incredulous "_What_?"

"Mikey, that's not true," Leo assured him. "If Shredder said that, he was messing with your head."

"Leo's right," Donny said quickly. The turtle wondered why his little brother would even give a second thought to such an outrageous claim. "He'd do anything to screw with our family; you know that. It's not true."

The teen shook his head. His voice was so unsteady. "He knew stuff. He knew stuff nobody knew. Stuff I never even told you." He pulled his shoulders together. "He called me…Oroku Ryoichi." He about choked on the name. "And there was a picture and it was her and…and him, and I was a baby, and it was so wrong, but Donny, I think it was real." He started shaking his head, almost pleading. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know before. I didn't ever know it was him." His eyes filled with tears, but not one of them fell as he stood up straighter. "But the guy…the guy that tried to kill all of us, the guy that kidnapped Splinter, the guy that…killed Master Yoshi…" He took a short, unsteady breath, eyes downcast, looking like…like he was bracing himself, steeling himself for something horrible that was about to happen. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. And it was obvious he was talking to all of them, but it was mostly for Splinter. "I'm sorry."

No one moved for a moment. Donny _couldn't_ move. His mind raced in that way that made everything around him seem like it was so slow and unreal. This couldn't be true. It was too bizarre to be real.

Suddenly, Splinter took a step toward the teen. Mikey's head ducked lower. _He's braced for…rejection, _Donny realized. _Does he think…? Oh, Mikey. _The rat reached out and placed his hand on the boy's head. Mikey flinched—something he hadn't done in years—a jolting reminder all by itself of how his past was different from theirs. "Look at me," Splinter commanded softly.

His hand dropped to rest on Mikey's shoulder as the teen raised those tear-filled blue eyes, wide and wary and nearly terrified. Splinter's eyes were black and fierce as he said slowly, with all the strength and conviction he possessed, "You. Are _my _son. You are Hamato Michelangelo. This name I gave you, like my love, is yours for always, my son. My little one. _Nothing_ will _ever_ change this. For what is _truth_ can never change."

And then those tears started to fall. "Dad…" Mikey whispered just before the hand on his shoulder tugged him into a gentle embrace. It was the last sound he made as he buried his face in his father's shoulder and his shoulders started to shake. It was weird…ironic…that it seemed like the only thing the normally boisterous young ninja did truly in silence…was suffer.

Don stood and watched, waiting. He heard a sharp intake of breath and saw Raph with fists clenched at his sides, fury building in his eyes. The red-banded turtle suddenly stormed off in the direction of his room. Donny looked at Leo who watched their brother go. The leader shook his head as his jaw stiffened. He patted Mikey on the shoulder. "It's gonna be okay, buddy." Then he took off after Raph, anger in every movement he made.

A minute later, Mikey pulled back, futilely scrubbing his wet eyes with his wet sleeve. He took a breath and looked at his father. "So," he asked. He looked kind of lost. "What do I do?" It was a question that kind of proved the young ninja wasn't really sure even what question to ask.

"Right now," said the master sagely, "you must go remove these wet things. It is unsafe to go around in wet clothes as you are. Especially after staying out all night. Go now before you come down with something."

The normal, matter-of-fact tone from Splinter surprised a genuine grin from Mikey. "Okay, okay. I'm going." His smile softened just a little. "Thanks."

Splinter nodded. "Go. When you return, we may talk more."

With a nod, Mikey turned toward his room, stopping as he looked at Donatello. The turtle smiled and held out his fist, and with a quirky half-grin, Mikey bumped his fist against it. "Welcome home, little brother."

A rare, sweet smile. "Yeah." The human's eyes trailed along the direction Raph had stomped off in minutes before, traces of worry only recognizable by those who knew him well lining the blue irises. Then he toed out of his shoes and peeled off his socks, gathering them up as he walked toward his room. Cleared his throat. "Probably won't be any hot water by the time I'm out of the shower. Fair warning, bro."

Donny shook his head. "Mm. Shocker."

As Mikey disappeared, Donny's smile faded as he looked at his father. Splinter looked lost in his own world for a moment, eyes far away. Then he returned Donny's gaze. "It will be all right," he promised, sounding like it was as much for himself as for Don.

Donny nodded. "It'll be all right," he repeated.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_Young Leonardo's eyes shot open as he let out a quiet gasp. He quickly sat up and realized he was in his own bed in his own little room, and as the reality of where he was set in, his pounding heartbeats started to slow a bit. He looked around, squinting in the darkness, as the images of monsters and bad men slowly began to fade from his mind's eye. Leo didn't have nightmares too often. Hadn't had one really in at least a year or two, which seemed like forever, so this one had really caught him by surprise and left him feeling anxious and agitated and…wrong. He knew nightmares were probably childish, and he was the oldest and should've grown out of them by now. Even so, he felt twitchy, and the idea of closing his eyes and going back to sleep right then held no appeal whatsoever._

_The young turtle slid from his bed, silently stretching before crossing to the door. He didn't usually have nightmares, but occasionally he did have trouble sleeping, and running through a quick workout usually helped. This plan fixed in mind, Leo left his room and moved stealthily toward the dojo. As he approached, though, he thought he heard whispers. He slinked up to the doorway, and stopped, peeking in._

_"So you guys are the henchmen of Dr. Furiosity! I guess I shouldn't really be that surprised. I _heard _the guy was getting' kinda desperate…kiyah!" It was that little kid. Drilling on techniques they'd been going through that week. "Guess your four-on-one just became a three-on-one, huh? Well, dudes, get ready to go to a two-on-one because _you're _about to get intro-ed to what I like to call… The Kick of Deathtiny!" And running through a little commentary to go with. Leo grinned as he watched. The kid wasn't so bad actually. Style was sloppy in some places, too stiff in others. But honestly…he wasn't so bad. _

_"And now with all your henchman totally—um…dispatched!—Dr. Furiosity, it's time for your reign of terror to end here! You and your evil sidekick Nurse Shots!" With that, the kid closed in on his new "targets," and while Leo watched, leapt into the air, bringing his leg around in a near-perfect arc, spinning 360 degrees. But the kid couldn't get his feet back under him in time, and he slipped and went tumbling to the mat, landing on his back. Kid sucked in a painful breath. "Ow," he whispered. "That was dumb." He laid there for a second. "Give me a minute, Nurse Shots. Your time'll come. The world'll be safe from your…evilry…ish…ness."_

_"You know, for the record, you probably shouldn't be moving around so much. Saving the world or not," Leo said casually as he stepped into the room, walking toward the young human._

_At the sound of Leo's voice, the kid jerked and scrambled up, eyes going wide as they landed on the turtle. "I…I…I…" He looked so startled he could barely make his mouth work as he backed away. "I didn't mean to wake you up." He winced, eyes fearfully darting around like he was trying to figure out the quickest escape route. "'m sorry. I wasn't gonna…I'll leave and I won't ever…"_

_Leo held up his hands. "Hey, take it easy. You're fine. You didn't wake me up. I came looking for a little workout. Like you."_

_The little boy swallowed nervously. "You mean you wanna fight me?"_

_"No, no, no," Leo quickly assured. "That's not what I meant. I didn't even know you were in here. You know, you're pretty good at this. You look like you've got a lot of the basics down. We just need to tighten 'em up and work on your form a little."_

_The kid blinked and raised an eyebrow as his breathing slowed slightly. "We do?"_

_"Sure. C'mere." The kid looked suspicious, but he cautiously stepped up closer. "Okay. Let's start from the beginning, I guess. We'll run through some movements in the first kata I ever learned. First form's called Chi No. Means earth. And I'll see how you do with that. If you start hurting or you get tired, tell me. We don't need to overdo it and mess you up more, right?" The kid nodded, wide-eyed. "Okay. See if you can follow me. Like Simon Says without...Simon. Or…saying anything."_

_So for the next twenty or thirty minutes, Leo worked him through forms. The kid seemed familiar with the first three elemental movements of the Sanshin No kata, nearly mirroring the turtle even on the first time through. "You do this before?" he'd asked. The kid just shrugged. And while they went through, Leo would stop and correct and explain, straightening the kid's wrist here or nudging his foot into stance there. The boy would flinch slightly at the contact, but didn't ask him to stop, so Leo figured it was okay to keep doing it. That's how Splinter had taught him and his brothers. _

_"Okay. Time for a breather," Leo announced. He flopped down to sit on the mat, patting the spot next to him. The human kid sank down a couple feet away, looking a little worn out, but happy enough about it. "You're good. Keep practicing like this, and you'll be able to keep up with me and my bros."He eyed the little guest. "What are you doing in here, anyway? Couldn't sleep?"_

_Kid shrugged. "I guess. How come you're here? Don't you sleep?"_

_Leo gave half a laugh. "Usually." Between the surprise of seeing the human kid and concentrating on teaching, the nightmare had mostly rolled off his shell. "Had a weird dream. Woke me up. Working out sort of…helps me chill out, I guess."_

_The boy sat slightly forward. "Was it a bad dream?" he whispered._

_Leo shrugged. "Pretty bad."_

_"What happened?"_

_"Normal nightmare stuff I guess. Monsters. Bad guys. It got kind of ugly."_

_The kid's eyes widened. "You've seen _monsters_?"_

_Leo grinned. "Only in my dreams. No such thing as monsters."_

_The little kid frowned as it looked like he was trying to work something out in his head. All he said, though, was, "Oh."_

_Leo leaned back on his hands and grinned. "So what was that stuff you were doing when I came in?"_

_The boy suddenly looked down, hiding a shy grin. He shrugged. "It was…a kata."_

_"Not like any kata I've ever seen," Leo laughed without ridicule. _

_"It was…a new one."_

_Leo shot him a sideways glance. "A new one, huh?"_

_"Yeah," the kid decided. "I made it up."_

_Leo grinned. "If you make it up, it's not really a kata," he explained._

_The kid pulled a face at the unfairness of that. "How come? All katas are made up by somebody, right?"_

_"Wh…" Leo stopped. The kid had him there. "Yeah. I guess. But…"_

_"It's funner to make it up, Leo." The kid was serious._

_"Oh, yeah?"_

_He nodded. Then he grinned and stood up. "You should try one. It can't be one you already know. You just gotta…" His feet moved into stance as his hands went up into fighting guard, eyes looking past Leo. "You gotta _see _the bad guys. And they gotta be really bad, but not so bad that they're scary. And they're trying to attack you, 'cause…'cause they're a gang of orange thieves, and you're a rich orange farmer from…Africa."_

"_Don't oranges come from, like, Florida?"_

_Kid didn't even pause. "That's why these oranges are so special. And these guys are trying to take 'em. You gotta protect your oranges, Leo."_

_Leo shook his head, grinning as he stood next to the kid, mirroring his stance and following the boy's line of sight toward the invisible African orange thieves. "O-kay. Now what are they doing?"_

"_Well, there's a really big fat one with an ugly beard and one eyebrow and a straw hat. His gang calls him Dwayne Chuckles. And he's coming up at you, and he's gonna attack you. What're you gonna do?"_

"_All right…Chuckles," Leo said, feeling kind of stupid. "So he, being a fat guy and all, probably gets behind his fist, swinging from his shoulder with a lot of momentum."_

"_Yeah," the kid whispered with excitement._

"_So I duck under," Leo did, "and come up to take him down with a flying round kick to the head." Leo leapt up in the air, executing the kick flawlessly. He landed. "And that's how we take down orange smugglers 'round these parts."He grinned at the giggling kid behind him. "How'd I do?"_

"_Good. There's one behind you!"_

_Leo turned, ready for action. "Quick, what's he look like?"_

"_You gotta tell me!"_

"_Um, he's real tall with huge muscles and a big tattoo right on his forehead. And he's coming at me with a…pair of scissors!" _

_The kid apparently thought that was hilarious. "What's his name?" he asked between giggles._

"_Um…I don't know. Kevin?"_

_The kid dropped to his knees in quiet, barely contained laughter. "Get him, Leo!"_

_Leo managed to disarm the scissor-wielding maniac, and a lung-punch, palm strike combo laid the guy out. Leo decided he liked this game. The two kept playing, teaming up against orange thieves and evil carnival people and at one point an entire rogue faction of the U.S. Postal Service. They went on like that, making up stories, and giggling and training, Leo teaching the kid some new moves along the way as they went through their "katas." It had been almost forty-five minutes before Leo noticed the way the kid was walking. Leo stopped._

"_Hey. You limping?"_

_The kid froze where he stood, looking caught. He looked down and shook his head. "No."_

_Leo shook his head. Kid was standing still at the moment, so technically he was telling the truth. "Okay, _were _you limping?"_

_The kid winced. "Sorry. I'll stop."_

"_What? No." Geeze, the kid thought he was in trouble for limping? Really? "No, I'm just saying we should call it quits for the night. I probably already worked you too hard as it is. And if you're hurting, I told you to tell me, remember?"_

_A tiny shrug. "Sorry. I didn't…I wasn't sure…" he trailed off._

_Leo frowned. "You weren't sure about what?"_

_"It's usually better when I don't say anything. People don't get…mad as much."_

_"Yeah, well. Not too many _people _around. You can say stuff here."_

_"You're not mad?"_

_"I'm kind of annoyed." He gave a half grin to let the kid know he wasn't really. "I'll get over it. I'm pretty wiped out. 'm going to bed. You probably should go, too."_

_"'kay."_

_"'sides," he added. "If we don't get enough sleep tonight, we might be too tired to not be able to sleep tomorrow night." He grinned._

_The kid looked up at him, confused, and then his eyes widened. "Really?" The turtle gave a shrug that was really more like a nod. The boy grinned. "'kay, I'm going. 'night, Leo."_

_Leo smiled and watched the kid make a beeline for the couch before the turtle headed toward his own room. "'night, buddy."_

Leo watched Raph pound the crap out of a punching bag for a minute. The red-banded turtle looked like he was lost in it, throwing punch after punch after kick after kick. And finally, Raph pulled up short, standing still for a full second before letting out a quick, rage-filled shout, and flat out _punching_ that bag. No form, no style. Just hitting something because he needed to see something else break before he did, looked like. Leo had had enough.

"Hey!" When there was no response, Leo jumped in and looped and arm through his brother's pulling the other turtle away from the bag. "What's your problem?"

Raph shoved him away, seething, too angry even to form words.

"Raph!"

"I'm gonna kill him!" his younger brother finally yelled. "I'm gonna freakin' kill him!"

Leo's face screwed up in horrified disbelief. "What? You're blaming him for this?"

"What do you mean I'm blamin' him for this? Who the shell else's fault is it, huh?" Raph squeezed his eyes shut for a second and then threw his fist back into the bag.

Leo shook his head. This wasn't like Raph. This wasn't Raph. Raph loved Mikey. That wouldn't change because of… "You don't really…. Raph, this doesn't change anything."

"Not for us, it don't. It sure as heck does for Mikey, though, doesn't it?" He threw another punch, the chains rattling on the bag. "Gah! I hate him!" He kept hitting. "Why'd he have to come back, huh? He just had to come back. Had to come back and ruin everything!"

Anger, red and hot, burned through Leo's veins. "Take it back, Raph," he ordered with deadly calm. "Now."

Raph looked up at him like he was just seeing him. "Take it back? What the heck are you talkin' about? We _killed_ the guy! Twice! And just when everything's getting' back to normal, he comes in here and freakin' drops a bombshell on Mikey's head! How's that kid supposed to deal with this, huh?"

Leo blinked. Shredder. Raph was talking about the Shredder. The blue-banded turtle suddenly felt like ten kinds of an idiot and worse for thinking otherwise about his brother.

Raph wasn't done. "And you wanna know what else? You wanna know who else's fault this is?"

"Raph…"

"If I hadn'ta lost his locket, none of this would be happening right now, would it? _Would_ it? Shredder never woulda known who Mikey was if he hadn't got his hands on that necklace. It _don't _make a difference to us, but Leo, you _know _it's gonna torture that kid. And Shredder's back, and you know he's gotta be up to something, and we're gonna have to stop him, but what are we gonna do, huh? We gonna ask Mikey to help us kill his own…" He bit off the last word and hit the bag harder. "I hate that guy!"

Leo could just watch. "Me, too," he said quietly. "Raph, it's not your…"

"Shove it, Leo."

Leo's jaw stiffened. _"You _shove it, Raph. You're right. This sucks. You want to feel guilty? Fine. You want to make this about you? Fine. Up to you, I guess. I'll try to explain to Mikey that you can't be there for him when he needs you most because you're busy kicking yourself for not being able to see the future or do the impossible or whatever it is you're bent on blaming yourself for."

"It's _my_ _fault_!"

"I _don't_ _care_!"

Raph was breathing hard. "Leo, Shredder's gotta have something up his sleeve. This whole thing is wrong—_feels_ wrong."

"I know."

Raph shook his head. "Everything that happens because of this is on me, bro. We can't lose our family to this. We can't. I can't let us."

"We won't. And _you're_ part of this family, too." Leo wasn't about to lose this brother to a bunch of unfounded guilt.

"This just…it shouldn't be happening, you know? Not to us. Not to Mikey."

"I know," Leo nodded. "I know."

"I'm gonna kill that guy," Raph said lowly, eyes going dark and dangerous. "I swear I'm gonna kill him."

Leo took a deep breath and ran his hand over his head. "Yeah, well. If it comes to that," he said. "Get in line."

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Michelangelo turned on the water in the shower, waited for it to heat up as he slipped his soggy shirt over his head, feeling kind of…spent. He'd never been on a real roller coaster before, but if the emotional kind were any indication, they must really suck. He paused, staring at himself in the mirror for a minute. Was it really possible? He looked at all the lines of his face, checking every feature for a resemblance to the now-disfigured mutant Shredder. His hair was really dark, almost black. His skin naturally light tan, but not dark enough to look really Japanese. His eyes were big and blue like his Irish mother's. His bone structure was fine, almost delicate-looking, and looked like it could possibly contain some Asian influence. Mikey sighed. "Well, still don't have the sudden urge to put on a metal costume and call myself the Blender."

He sat heavily on the toilet seat as the room started to fill with steam. When he was little, he'd always wondered about what happened to his dad. After his mom was gone, he'd always imagine his dad would be like some superhero or secret agent spy or something, and one day this awesome, strong guy would bust in and save him. Then he'd met Splinter. And Splinter _had_ saved him. He got a whole new family with a dad and three big brothers that he loved more than anything, and everything that happened before he could forget because it was over and he was safe. Except for her. He didn't want to forget her. And now he had her name. Olivia Ivor. If that really was her name, he might have a chance to find out what his mind had buried all those years ago. No matter what he found, he had to know. Because whatever else he found, he _knew_ she'd loved him.

Mikey took a deep breath and stood, setting his locket on the sink counter. "I'm gonna do it," he whispered, decision made. "I'm gonna find her." He had to. He looked at himself in the mirror and winced, knowing what he had to do. "This is not gonna go over well."


	6. Paper Cities

A/N: Heh. Anyone remember this story? Been a little bit, eh? Apologies. Hope you enjoy, though.

* * *

Act VI

_ "Donny!" The little human boy came skidding in to the kitchen barefoot, freshly showered and wearing the "new" t-shirt Splinter had found for him. It, like his other, was orange, which had pleased the boy to no end, and was a tad too big. And this one had a picture of a tree on it, which also seemed to please. _

_ Leo was eating breakfast with Raph. It was Saturday, and they'd been allowed to sleep in, something Leo had taken full advantage of after spending the past couple nights up playing "kata" with the human boy. The blue-banded turtle smiled at the tousle-haired little human bundle of energy. The kid was getting more mobile every day. This day he seemed to be in a hurry. "Good morning."_

_ "'Morning, Leo. Where's Donny? I drew him a picture." He held up a piece of paper folded once down the middle._

_ "Yeah? Can I see it?"_

_ "Yep. But I gotta give it to Donny first since it's his, and then you can see it. I can draw you a picture, too, later."_

_ Leo smiled. "Cool. Thanks."_

_ The boy sent an uncertain look toward Leo's brother. "Um…Raphael?"_

_ "I don't want a stupid picture."_

_ The little boy nodded, seeming unbothered. "That's what I thought." He looked at Leo. "So where's Donny?" he asked again, refusing to be side-tracked from his mission. Wasn't surprising, considering the little human spent his days practically glued to the purple-banded turtle. Donatello, for his part, didn't seem to mind in the slightest, always finding something "fascinating" to show the young newcomer that the two could talk about for hours. _

_ Leo leaned back in his chair. "He got up early and went skating in the tunnels. He didn't want to wake you. You looked pretty zonked. Can't imagine why…" He winked._

_ The young human bit down a smile, playing off a very cool shrug."Okay, thanks, Leo." With a quick grin, the boy turned and bolted toward the exit._

_ "Hey! Hold it!" Leo called after him. The boy froze as he did when anyone raised their voice, turning slowly with questioning, cagey eyes. "Breakfast first. Then shoes. Then if Donny's not back yet, I'll go with you to catch up to him. You don't go into the tunnels alone."_

_ The boy's shoulders relaxed, and he tilted his head to one side. "Why? Donny goes alone."_

_ "Donny knows these tunnels better than you, and he's older."_

_ "How do you know?" the boy asked pointedly, crossing his arms. It was bordering on a whine._

_ Leo gave him a flat look. "Psychic turtle powers."_

_ "That's baloney," the kid called him on it. "Leo, I'm not hungry, and I wanna go _now_." Yep, that was definitely a little bit of whine there at the end of that one._

_ "House rules, bucko. No arguments. Go grab your shoes, and I'll pour you a bowl of Lucky Charms."_

_ "I don't want Lucky Charms."_

_ "Well, what do you want?"_

_ "To go get Donny!" Little guy practically stomped his foot._

_ "Sorry, we're fresh out of that one. All we've got is Lucky Charms and off-brand Cocoa Puffs." Leo refused to give in. He'd never seen this side of the little monster before. So far the kid had been ever so careful to go out of his way to be no trouble. Leo would've been really annoyed—if he hadn't been secretly kind of thrilled that the kid trusted him enough to throw a tantrum. "Now scoot."_

_ "That's not fair!"_

_ "You sure?"_

_ "Yes! Leo, why can't…"_

_ "I'll tell you what's not fair!" Raph suddenly yelled, standing and slamming his fist down on the table hard enough to rattle the dishes. The little boy jumped with a startled gasp. "You! In our home, eating our food, then throwing your little hissy fits when we're suddenly not runnin' at your beck'n' call! You think just 'cause you're some human being Leo's gotta do what you say? You that high and mighty, Human? Huh?"_

_ The little boy was backing up, shaking his head quickly, eyes wide and shiny as Raph moved toward him._

_ "Raphael!" Leo said sharply, pulling his brother back by the shoulder. "That's enough!"_

_ Raph whirled on him. "Yeah, I _know_ it's enough! I've had it up to here with this punk in here thinkin' he's better than us, and you guys fallin' all over yourselves tryin' to help him out, and him always stayin' one more day, one more day, one more day! I'm sick of it! He don't belong here, Leo. And he knows it, and now he's in here makin' demands, and I ain't gonna sit here and take it!" _

_ "Hey! He didn't do anything…"_

_ "Just shut the heck up, Leo!"_

_ With that, Raphael stormed out, the little boy scuttling out of his way as he passed. "Raph!" Leo called after him. "Raphael!" The red-banded turtle didn't answer. Leo sighed in frustration._

_ He looked up to see the little boy nearly shaking, clutching at the picture he'd drawn for Donny like a lifeline. Head bowed low, he slunk across to sit at the table, obediently pouring cereal into a bowl. He sat back in his chair, making no move to take a bite. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I forgot…I'm sorry."_

_ "Raph's being an idiot," Leo dismissed that, internally fuming at his younger brother. Raph was getting worse. "Now you finish up that bowl and we'll go find Donny."_

_ The boy shook his head. "That's okay," he said quietly. "I'll just wait for him to come back. Thank you for offering…"_

_ "Hey." Leo tipped the boy's chin up with one finger. It seemed to surprise the kid so much he forgot to flinch. "I said I'd take you. I meant it. Now eat up." He smiled._

_ "But…"_

_ "Now."_

_ The human boy let out a breath, looking unsure for a moment before flashing a tiny, playful grin. "You're kinda bossy, Leo."_

_ Leo blinked before mock-glaring at the youngster. "I get to be bossy, short stuff. I'm the oldest. Now eat. That's an order."_

_ A tiny giggle. "Sir, yes, sir."_

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Michelangelo groaned and stretched a little as he became aware of sore muscles and consciousness in that order. Over the years he'd had some pretty thorough conditioning, but still after a heavy fight or long run, he got a bit sore. But wherever he was felt familiar and smelled like candle wax and old books and comfort. He rolled over and buried his face in a pillow. Apart from the soreness, his whole self was warm and comfortable and safe. Except he had this annoying, prickly little feeling that he was forgetting something. _Hmm…What...?_ Then he remembered. Frantic running and crying and Shredder. His breath halted and he sat up. And then his eyes opened, and he was calmer. _Oh. Yeah._

He was in Splinter's bed. That fact alone made him feel a weird combination of embarrassed and loved. He could remember a dozen times when he was little, after a particularly gruesome nightmare, the kind rat tucking his exhausted form into bed beside him. Humming softly or speaking words of comfort that oftentimes weren't even in English. Nightmares didn't dare come around when Splinter was there.

"Ah. He awakes." Speaking of…. The low Japanese voice came from the chair across from the bed.

Mikey looked over to see his father closing a book Mikey suspected he hadn't been reading at all. "Oh. Master. Um. _Cleveland_."

There was a quick, surprised smile from the master. Those were Mikey's favorite. The smiles that weren't patient or indulgent, but genuinely, inescapably amused. Being able to get that kind of grin from the normally unflappable ninja master was something Mikey took great pride in. "_Ohayo_, Michelangelo," he corrected with a chuckle. "As you well know." Which was true. Splinter made sure all four of them had a working knowledge of Japanese. Certainly enough to use the simple "good morning" greeting.

Mikey shrugged. "Geography was never my best subject."

"Perhaps not, but language is something in which you've never been deficient." His smile went gentle then. "O genke desu ka, chibikko?" _How are you, little one?_

Mikey tried on a smile he thought would match. "Genke desu, chichi," he answered quietly. _I'm fine, father._ He looked away and scratched the back of his head. "Oh," he said, changing the subject with zero grace. "Uh. Ima nan-ji desu ka?" _What time is it?_

"Yo-ji desu."

Mikey felt his jaw drop. "_What_-ji desu?"

"Yon."

"I slept till _four_ o'clock?" He scrambled out from under the covers. Four o'clock. They were never allowed to sleep in so late. He'd gone to bed at…around seven that morning. That was…_nine_ hours. In a _row_. That didn't happen. "Where is everybody? Are they still here?" He had to see them.

Splinter looked at him curiously. He didn't seem to understand his sudden panic. "Where would they have gone?" Mikey stopped before he got to the door. Suddenly he didn't understand his panic either. Of course they wouldn't have gone anywhere. Why would he think they would? This was their home. His home. With them. It was all-of-theirs home. He shook his head.

"Right. Right. Heh. Duh. Still waking up I guess. I am…so hungry. I missed breakfast. And lunch. Afternoon tea. Elevensies for sure…"

And then Donny appeared in the doorway so suddenly Mikey nearly smacked into his plastron. "Did you just say you wanted elevensies?"

"Um. Old hobbits die hard?" _What? Eesh._ Mikey physically winced. So did Donny.

"Ooh. You really wish you hadn't said that, don't you?"

"It made my _teeth_ hurt."

"Come on, little brother. I think your blood sugar's a little low." Donny smiled a good morning to their father and led Mikey out to the main drag of the ancient subway station. They crossed to their "kitchen" and Donny flicked on the stove, grabbing a skillet from the low cupboard. "Eggs?"

"Never argue with the turtle doing the cooking." Mike held up his hands. "I'm no fool."

He hopped up on the counter and watched as Donny cracked the eggs into a bowl and took hold of a whisk. Don got cheese and bacon and mushrooms from the fridge, and Mikey had to smile. Normally Don would chop up tomatoes and spinach and turkey and all that kind of nonsense and give him a lecture on eating healthier (which was total hypocrisy considering the turtle ate as much pizza as he did and drank twice as much coffee). No such lecture today, though. No, Donny was doing what he always did when he thought Mikey was having a rough time of things. Spoiling him. Mikey wasn't about to discourage it. As he said, he was no fool.

"How'd you sleep?" Donny asked absently, whisking the eggs.

"Like a rock, actually." He frowned. "That's a dumb metaphor." Rocks didn't sleep. At all. They didn't breathe either. Sleeping like a rock shouldn't mean slept well. Sleeping like a rock should mean am dead.

"Noted. And it's a simile, not a metaphor."

"No a-simile required."

"Wow, you're just full of 'em today, aren't you?"

"I slept like a sloth," he decided. A nice, relaxed, alive sloth. He banged his heels against the cupboard, and it was so normal. "Why don't people have sloths as pets? They would be _so_…manageable. And they're cute. And way cuddlier than goldfish or…chinchillas."

"Same reason people don't have pandas as pets."

"Bamboo shortage?"

"Animal shortage."

"Oh. But that's so _sad_." Before Donny could offer words of wisdom and comfort and list at least two good reasons why they _shouldn't_ rescue a sloth _and_ a panda from whatever unforgiving jungle and keep them as pets, the door to Leo's room slid open and Casey and April were…there.

"Mikey!" April called his name. There was worry and relief in the voice at the same time, and she was such a girl, and Mikey loved her so much right then. She was over in front of him in a second, pulling him off the counter and into a hug without waiting for permission. "We came down as soon as we could after the rain. I'm so glad you're okay. We were scared to death. When Casey called and told me you were missing…" She didn't finish. Like she couldn't. And he knew she loved him, too, because sometimes love was subtle and quiet like that.

He cleared his throat. "_Casey_ called you? So…we called him first?"

"Yeah…" She pulled back. "I didn't think of that. Why _did_ you call him first?" She took on a scary air of _insulted_ and glared at Donny who held up his hands in surrender. "Is _he_ higher on your speed dial than _I_ am?"

Mikey blinked. "Whoa. Isn't this an episode of _Seinfeld_?" He looked around at present company. "This would be a really _weird_ episode of _Seinfeld_."

Casey grinned and ruffled his hair all up before shoving him slightly. Pretty sappy for the former hockey player, actually. "Missed you kid. Wasn't too worried, though."

"We can always count on you to keep a level head," Mikey nodded.

Donny snorted. "Which explains the broken hockey stick in the dumpster in the alley upstairs."

Casey rounded on him with a glare. "It was an old stick, mud sucker. It was bound to break sooner or later."

"The angry, frenzied slamming against the brick wall may have been what brought on the 'sooner.' Ninnyhammer."

Casey took a step forward. "What'd you call me?"

Mikey pushed him back. "Dude. Don't mess with him. He's making me an omelet."

Casey growled. "Ostrich face."

"Pesto brain," Donny answered pleasantly.

April huffed. "Yes, you're both gifted with a brilliant command with the English alphabet." She rolled her eyes at Mikey. "Eventually they have to stop, right?"

He blinked. "Why?"

Leo and Raph hopped up on the platform then, obviously having come from the dojo. Leo seemed okay. Raph looked the way he did when he was trying really hard to keep his lid from blowing. Mikey bit his lip and looked away. That's what scared him the most. He knew Raph loved him. He'd never have doubted that. But Raph's sense of honor was so _deep_. He took things personally. And now Mikey was half Shredder. A stab of pain went through him at the thought. But it was true maybe, probably, definitely, and Shredder had put them through so much, taken so much from them. He'd even kidnapped Raph, used him to draw the rest of them out. Raphael _hated_ the Shredder. So sure Raph loved Mikey. But how could Mikey ask him to love that part of him that was Shredder's? He swallowed. He wasn't even sure how he could deal with that yet.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty awakes," Leo said, nearly mimicking Splinter's earlier words. He grinned as he stood next to Mikey and bumped their shoulders together. "We thought we'd have to send Casey in to kiss you."

"And…thank you. Because I needed another image that'll haunt me for the rest of my life."

April raised her hand. "Second that."

Casey glared. "Why do I come down here? Honestly. At the very least, I could be getting harassed by…"

"People with condos. We know," April patted his arm. To give the guy credit, though, his claustrophobia issues had gotten a lot better since the turtles had moved into the abandoned subway station. He was a New Yorker. What New Yorker didn't feel at home on the subway? _Well. Besides me. And my family._

Casey kept on glaring. "I was going to say by street level punks I wouldn't feel guilty about beating to a pulp."

"So you really _wouldn't_ try to beat any of us to a pulp?" Leo clarified innocently.

"No, I would. I just might feel guilty about it later. Well…maybe."

"Raph," Donny cut in. "You want popcorn duty? I vote movie night."

April raised her hand. "Again, I will second. Movie votes?"

"_Lord of the Rings_?" Mikey had to suggest it. Had to.

"Which one?"

Donny grinned. "_Fellowship_." Mikey shared in the grinning.

April nodded. "Anyone opposed?"

Casey's arm slipped around her waist. "You're so organized, babe. I love that about you." Seemed like April had been a lot more lenient lately about letting him call her babe. It was kinda adorable.

Approximately the time it takes to microwave popcorn later, the group sat down in front of the TV while Raph popped the disc in. Mikey sat squished between Donny and April, while Casey was on the other side of her. Four people on their three-person couch. As it should be. Splinter sat in his old recliner. Leo sat leaning back against Donny's shins. And Raph hadn't said anything, but he was near, and Mikey needed that. No one had said anything about anything important. They were all just close. Like they knew him so well they knew that's exactly what he wanted. The movie opened, and Raph disappeared. Mikey felt his heart sink. A moment later, the overhead lights dimmed.

He waited, frozen. And then, two hands landed on him, pushing him forward to hook under his arms and lift him up bodily. His breath caught. He got his feet under him on the couch, but Raph wrapped an arm around him and climbed over the couch behind him, dropping to sit in his seat and pulling Mikey down with him, leaving Mike sprawled half on him, half on Donny.

"Geez, Raph," Donny protested as he adjusted for the sudden weight. Mikey heard the grin, though. April had to shift over closer to Casey, and neither of them seemed to mind.

"If you talk through this whole thing, I'll gag you with Don's mask," Raph grumbled as he settled in.

Mikey sat there shocked for about one and a half seconds. Then he smiled a big, slow smile as he shifted down and leaned back into his brothers. There was family and forever, and this movie was long, and he was so glad they'd gone for the extended edition. Mutant turtles could actually be surprisingly comfortable. "This…is a three-person couch," he said with the proper dose of loftiness and disagreeableness.

"Shut up. 'Less you want the floor."

He didn't. "Psh. You shut up," was the best comeback he could come up with what with all the fear-smothering relief. Happiness. Didn't seem possible to not be happy with his family all right there around him.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_ It was Saturday night. The old clock on the shelf in the main room read 9:42. Donny was kneeling on the rug with his friend trying to mount the missile launch bay on the south side of the…castle they were currently constructing. Well, it started out as a castle. Then it became a starship. Then it became a fleet of starships docking at the satellite base orbiting the normally peaceful planet Terillius Seven. The vast expanse of super-advanced space tech was made entirely out of all the newspapers and plastic bottles and old cardboard and aluminum cans they'd saved up that week. _

_ Leo and Raph came in from the tunnels then, carrying flashlights and a racquetball Donny had dipped in a glow-in-the-dark solution he'd managed to come up with. The two stopped in the entryway. "Whoa," Leo said, a grin gradually making its way to his face as his eyes bugged out a little. There were even little folded-paper fighters hanging down from kite string taped to the ceiling. "Hey guys. Overdo it much?"_

_ Donny looked up innocently. "At least we didn't build it to scale."_

_ The protractor, ruler and pencil on the floor next to the turtle told their own story. Leo smirked. "Not for lack of trying?"_

_ "Well…" Donny shrugged, refusing to look embarrassed. He nodded to the little human who was currently taping up a turret on the station's weapons deck. "He, um, sort of convinced me not to."_

_ "How'd he do that? Threaten to steal your protractor?"_

_ Donny glanced at the softly-grinning human boy. "Ah, actually, he told me he's allergic to math."_

_ Leo laughed. "You can't be allergic to math."_

_ The boy shrugged. "Numbers give me headaches. It's gotta be an allergic reaction. If I'm around it too much, my head'll probably swell up and explode. Like…a melon. With…a bomb in it." He shook his head at his own ridiculous metaphor and apparently decided to move on to the bottom line. "It could be dangerous, Leo. Also messy." He tried to pull off a serious face. It was a noble attempt._

_ "Riiight." Leo exchanged grins with Don before looking back at the human. "What is it you're building there?"_

_ "It's another laser cannon. Donny said we needed more direct-fire weapons," he recited._

_ Raph, standing by Leo, apparently had stayed quiet as long as he could. Donny could practically feel the anger radiating from behind that red mask. "This is stupid. Ever stop to think that we gotta sort this stuff out and have it ready to go by day after tomorrow? 's our freakin' living you're screwing around with, moron." There was a recycling center downtown that paid out. Every week, late at night, Splinter would haul the stuff out of the lair and traverse the tunnels in the direction of the recycling center. He'd heave it up topside and leave it outside the door. By the next morning, there'd be an envelope with the money stuck down the sewer grate outside the center for the Hamato family. It wasn't much, but it was something. Something for when what they needed couldn't be found at a dump. This had been going on for years. The turtles never knew what kind of deal Splinter had struck with some topsider, or how he'd done it. It was just how it was. They needed, Splinter provided. That's how it'd always worked._

_ Donny glared at Raph, his own anger rising at the unfairness of his brother's words. "It was my idea, Raph, not his. And the three of us used to make paper cities and stuff all the time when we were younger. What's your problem? Why can't you just…"_

_ "Hey, __**I**__ ain't the one that…"_

_ Whatever Raph was going to say was cut off as Master Splinter entered the room. The rat surveyed the newly redecorated living room with a twinkle in his eye. Donny smiled. Master Splinter understood things like this. "Interesting."_

_ "I'll clean it up," the little human spit out quickly. Donny looked over to see him staring nervously guilty at the floor. "I-It wasn't…. It was my fault. You don't have to…"_

_ "You have done nothing wrong, child," Master Splinter told him patiently. "Indeed, it is quite a masterpiece, isn't it." _

_ The human boy peeked up in surprise but was quick to agree with his tiny, disarming grin. "Yeah. Yes, sir. Donny did most of it. Know what this is?" He pointed to a paper replica of possibly the most famous starship of all time. "Donny made it based on the _Deathstar._ It's from a movie. I haven't seen it, but Donny said it's really good and he has the videotape, so he said we could watch it later."_

_ "He ain't ever seen _Star Wars_?" Don heard Raph mutter. "We _literally_ live under a rock, and _he_ ain't ever seen _Star Wars._ Geez."_

_ Splinter, sharp-eared as he was, must've heard what Raph said. But he acted like he didn't. He spoke to the human. "Enjoy yourself, little one." Then he looked at each of them in turn. "I will be back as soon as I can manage. Remember…"_

_ "Stay inside, keep our guard up, and don't destroy anything," Leo recited. He rolled his eyes a little. "Including each other." Saturday nights a lot of the food places threw out their expired food. That made Saturday grocery night. _

_ Splinter gave his version of a smirk. "Very good. I will see each of you in the morning when you wake."_

_ "Good night, Sensei." Don's farewell was echoed by Leo's. But Raph came up with something altogether different._

_ "Why don't the human go with you?"_

_ There was a moment of short, uncomfortable silence before Master Splinter broke it. "My son. We will speak when I return."_

_ "No, I'm just sayin', he's a human. You're goin' up onto their turf. He'd be good cover, right? I mean, you know nobody'd look twice at him. If he's sticking around, why not let him help you out? Take him topside."_

_ Donny clenched his fists. "Raph, why do you have to be such a jerk? He's hurt, and…"_

_ "Come on, we all know he ain't _that_ bad off. He's been runnin' around here for days. I say if he's gonna live in our place, he pulls his own weight. Like that's so much."_

_ "Oh, yeah, because you're _such_ a help around here."_

_ "Enough." Splinter's command was firm. "Raphael. We will speak of this when I return." Even Raph knew better than to argue with that tone. The red-banded turtle's nod was mostly to disguise the glare he wisely directed at the floor. Splinter turned again to leave. _

_ "Wait." The voice was small and nervous and determined. "I'll go." Donny's head spun to look at the human. The boy's head was ducked low, his fists clenched at his side. He looked up bravely toward Master Splinter. "I can help. I can. I'll go." He was nothing but sincere. But the strangest thing about it was that this human, this topsider, seemed absolutely terrified by the very prospect of going above ground._

_ Donny looked at his father. Splinter stared at the little human for the longest time, and, perhaps for the first time, the boy met his gaze, though it was clearly agonizing for him to do so. Finally, Splinter said, "You will stay." With those words, the human broke off his gaze with a short, relieved sigh, and dropped his stare once again to the floor. "Thank you for your offer, little one. But I will manage. It is late. You four should go to bed soon. Good night." With that, he turned and left, closing the door firmly behind him._

_ "'You four,'" Raph grumbled angrily. "'You four,' he says." He shouldered past Leo and stormed into his room, slamming the door with more force than a normal tantrum would warrant. And it made Don angry almost as much as it made him sad._

_ "Idiot," he heard Leo mutter._

_ Donny's eyes were on the human boy, though. And he didn't like what he saw at all. The little boy's head was still ducked low, hiding his face, but there was nothing he could do to hide the fine tremors running all through him. The little guy was positively shaking._

_ "Hey." Donny took a step toward him._

_ The human sucked in a sharp breath and took a step back, flinching away. "I'm sorry." And the trembling got worse._

_ Don looked at Leo. The older turtle's mouth was set in a grim line, his eyes wide and softened with concern. He nodded at Donny, asking and answering his own question with his eyes. Without words, he told Don to call if he needed him. Then he left the room with hardly a sound._

_ Don turned his attention back to the little boy. He'd thought maybe they were past this. Maybe that was hoping for too much. "What are you sorry for?" he asked quietly._

_ The boy flinched again. And he looked upset and miserable and so, so _scared_. "I…I don't mean to…to stay. It's…I can help. I will. It's just…" He shook his head._

_ "Hey." Donny reached out and touched his shoulder, and there was a quiet, fearful sound, and there was shaking. "What is it? What are you so scared of?"_

_ "I'm not scared." It was a lie. It was a stark, blatant, clumsy lie that screamed of desperation. Screamed of darkness. Screamed of something evil._

_ And whatever it was that scared this little human—this boy who could stay with three mutant turtles and a rat without hardly blinking—whatever unimaginable wickedness could scare him so badly scared _Donny_ more than he thought was possible. Without thinking, he jerked the human forward, wrapped his arms around him, broke all the rules of _careful_ and _slowly_ and _don't touch_ that surrounded the once-was stranger. The little boy went absolutely rigid, and Don barely noticed. "They won't find you. They won't ever find you, and I _promise_, okay? I won't let them hurt you. No matter what. And neither will Splinter, and neither will Leo. We'll keep you safe, and you don't have to be afraid anymore. If you're with us, you're safe. Anywhere. Forever. Okay?"_

_ The words were fast and rambled, and Donny wasn't even sure they'd all come out in a logical order, but it didn't matter because it was _truth_. Because it mattered right then that the little human hear and believe that there were words like _safe_ and _promise_ and _forever_. And the body in his arms was small and stiff and slightly broken. _

_ "I didn't really want to go." The words were slow, and so quiet Don could've imagined them._

_ "You didn't have to go. But if you had, Splinter never would've let something happen. Not to you."_

_ There were no tears. There should've been tears, but there were none. The trembling faded little by little, and Donny didn't let go. The little human stood so still, face buried in Don's plastron, not hugging back, just breathing slow, being held, and Don wasn't about to be the first one to back away. "Donny?"_

_ "What?"_

_ "I won't ever hurt you. Ever. I promise. I'd leave before I hurt you." The words were quick and clear, desperate to be heard and so very serious._

_ That didn't seem right. This kid couldn't be any kind of danger to anybody. "What do you mean?"_

_ "I…" He stopped and had to start again. "It's not important what I mean. Just…you just gotta know. Just in case."_

_ "Okay. I know," he said softly. Except he wasn't sure he understood at all._

_ "Good." And just like that, the younger one pulled away, put a foot of space between them. Tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, while his breathing returned to normal. Looked around at the world of paper that surrounded them. "Can we play again?" The voice sounded hopeful and far too normal._

_ Donny didn't sigh out loud. "Have you ever heard of a TIE fighter?"_

_ "Does it fight guys who wear ties?"_

_ "…No."_

_ "Then no."_

_ Donny grinned a little. "TIE stands for twin ion engine…" As he went on talking and grabbed a newspaper and tape, he couldn't help thinking. It wasn't fair. Every day the little human's fate seemed more and more uncertain. It should be the opposite way. Every day there should be more security, more familiarity. But instead every day brought them closer to the decision that had to be made. Could he stay? Or not? And what could Donny do about it? He'd already made promises. He didn't make those lightly._

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Mikey lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. Waiting. He was generally terrible at waiting. Also, he generally hated it. Also, his ceiling was generally uninteresting. _Gotta get me some charcoal. _He could draw something up there. That would be sort of awesome. But wait. He wasn't sure if he could take the Michelangelo jokes. Sistine Chapel. Hardy-har. Of course, he and Michelangelo Sisti's drawing styles were totally different. Famous, dead Michelangelo was more about naked lady angels and such. Beardless, living Michelangelo was more about…well a lot of different things. But his subjects always wore clothes.

He was sketching out his ceiling in his head, torn between dinosaurs and outer space before realizing that dinosaurs _in_ outer space would be at least twice as awesome, when he realized the lair had finally gone quiet. The lights were dim through his windows. And he realized he had no excuse to wait any longer.

He rolled out of his bed, already dressed in an old pair of jeans and a black hoodie. He grabbed his chucks—the weapons and the shoes—and crept out into the station, heading soundlessly for the ladder.

Donny was slumped on the couch. His turn. Something that felt a little like guilt tugged at him. He waited in the shadows until he was absolutely certain his brother was sleeping before stealing up the ladder and into the sewers. He pulled his mask out of his pocket and pulled it over his head. A couple tunnels and then another ladder, and he was on the street.

Something that felt a lot like fear tugged at him. Mikey took a deep breath. _You're not a little kid anymore. You can do this._ And he believed that. Except for the part where he felt exactly like a little kid. Regardless, he'd made his decision. And no matter how stupid it was, he'd see it through. He took off running for the south side of town. Proud Tide territory.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Donny raised his head as he heard the ladder hatch drop. _Mikey._ He left. Right after they'd just got him back, he left. Without stopping even to let any of them know that he was going. Didn't make sense. Oh, it sort of did, he supposed. He felt anger flare, and there wasn't a thing he could do to stop it.

Mikey didn't go topside alone. Not ever. Raph and Leo and sometimes even Donny would go up to run around, blow off steam, or get a little space. But Mikey tended not to want a lot of space. And even when he did, his me time usually consisted of comic books or action figures or drawing in his room, and even then Mikey usually sought out one of his brothers to have me time with him. He didn't go outside alone. But he'd just walked. Alone. And Donny didn't know where, and Donny didn't know why. But his Mikey senses were tingling, and he didn't like that at all. He set the Nintendo 64 he'd been working on aside. Then he followed after his brother.

* * *

A/N: Anyone who's never constructed a paper city: do it. Immediately.


	7. Shift

Act VII

Michelangelo couldn't believe he was doing this. Oh, he could. On lots of levels he could. But then there was that level that was still occasionally a terrified little kid who didn't know what he'd be punished for next and only wanted something to eat. He shook his head. _Whoa, dude. Burry that image, please. You're not a little kid. You're a ninja. Legit. You got this._ He gave himself that same pep talk about ninety-seven times as he went further and further south and the streets became vaguely familiar and some things he remembered and some things he only remembered there was something he should remember.

The old two-story apartment building was torn up and run down and looked deserted. It had always looked that way. Mikey scaled up to the roof of the building across the street and looked down at it. Yellow light from the lone streetlamp cast long shadows and made the building look like something old and sick. The goose bumps that rose on his arms had nothing to do with the night air and everything to do with the nightmare that stood waiting for him just across the road. He found his breath had quickened and his stomach wouldn't stay still. And try as he might, he couldn't remember the pep talk he was supposed to be giving himself. It didn't matter what he told himself. If he went into that place he'd never come back out again. It would be pain and hate and fear and evil and worthlessness and always, always _alone_. Mikey shook his head and backed away from the edge. _I can't do this._ He didn't want to be alone anymore. He didn't want to be feared and hated and hurt. He didn't want to be…

_You. Are **my** son. You are Hamato Michelangelo._ Splinter's words rang in his ears quiet but screaming truth and conviction and love and confidence. "I'm Hamato Michelangelo," he whispered. It didn't matter what they called him; didn't matter who or what they thought he was. He was Splinter's fourth son. And he was going to find his mother. He was strong enough to find her. "I can do this. I can."

So then he did. He jumped down from window ledge to window ledge, landing with hardly a sound on the sidewalk below. He crossed the street. The building seemed to get bigger as he got closer. He went around to the utility entrance. With a deep breath, he took off his mask. The air felt cold on his face, and he felt exposed, naked, and in that moment, he almost made a run for it. He looked at the mask in his hand. The one his father gave him. "Hamato Michelangelo," he whispered. And he shoved his mask in his pocket.

Knocked hard four times and waited. Nothing happened. He waited more, starting to doubt. Maybe it had been too long. Maybe they'd moved on or been forced to move. Maybe that should be what he wanted. Then without warning, the door scraped open two inches.

"Who's there?"

"Need to talk to Shift. He still alive?"

"Who's asking?"

"I am. Clearly."

Guy was immediately on edge. "And who are you?"

"Obviously I am a cop. My name is whatever Johnny Depp's character's name from _21 Jump Street _was."

"You try again before I drop you right here."

Mikey held up his hands. "Dude, it was before my time, okay?" He heard the guy's weight shifting behind the door, and he spoke seriously and clearly. "Listen. You get Shift. And tell him…tell him Petey's here to see him."

The door immediately swung open all the way, and the barrel of a gun was just beyond the tip of Mike's nose. The man holding it was tense; he twitched his head, motioning Mikey forward. "Get inside."

It was like stepping back in time.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_The startled gasp cut through the haze of sleep around Donny's brain, and when he raised his head, his friend's bed was already empty. "Little human?" he whispered. He got up and followed where the human must have gone. He could hear harsh, trembling breaths and frantic movements, and he stood on the edge of the family room, stunned into silent stillness. _

_ The little human had dragged coffee table and beanbag chairs in front of the door to their home and as Donny watched, the boy threw the cushions off the couch and got behind it and pushed as hard as he could, sliding it across the floor with the other things, barring the door, keeping everything out. Then he went and picked up the cushions and threw them on top. His movements were all but panicked, his eyes frightened and determined. He moved for a bookshelf he had no hope of moving._

_ "Little human," Donny said, and there was a gasp as the human whirled to face him, fists clenched, absolutely ready for a fight. "Hey," Donny held up his hands in surrender. "It's me."_

_ "Donny?" The little boy looked lost and confused for a moment. Then, "You gotta stay quiet, Donny. They come, you gotta stay down. No matter what. No matter what you hear, you stay down, do you understand?"_

_ Donny didn't. "Who?" he asked helplessly._

_ "Deserters and traitors get **cut**." His voice squeaked on the last word, and there was a cold, desperate fear. "I won't let it…won't let it happen. It's wrong. It's **wrong.**"_

_ **He's not awake. He's still sleeping.** A deep down ache filled Donny's chest. "No one will…will cut you, little human. I promise."_

_ He shook his head, and he was sweating. "Everything comes out. Nothing inside is attached, and it just…just comes out. And they're awake. They're awake for so **long**." There was a harsh, shuddering sob that was almost a gag. "I shouldn't've…I shoulda stayed. They're coming, Donny. They said. They said I couldn't get out. They said."_

_ Donny went up to him, took him by the shoulders and pulled him in tight. "They were wrong."_

_ The kid shook his head against Donny's chest. "I can't fight 'em. There's too many."_

_ "You don't have to. I'm here. And Splinter and my brothers. We won't let anyone touch you."_

_ The little boy was still breathing hard. "No. No, no. I can't let 'em hurt you. I gotta…"_

_ "Shh. They won't. I promise. They can't."_

_ He calmed a little and pulled back, but not so far. His eyes were haunted and misty and full of trouble and pain. The fingers of a shaking hand ghosted over the hard exterior of Don's plastron, just over where his stomach was. Felt the rough armor and nodded. His breathing slowed. "Good." And then he said, very quietly, very slowly and like he didn't know he was speaking out loud, "I wish I was like you."_

_ Donny took a deep breath. He hated it. At ten years old he hated that anyone would have to wish they were like him. But this kid was so small and so scared, and the bruises fading all over soft, unprotected skin, and Donny thought there were images playing behind the haunted blue eyes that no eight year old should ever know. And Donny thought differently about the word **cut **than he ever had before. "I wish you were, too," he whispered back. He looked up at the flimsy blockade the little boy had thrown up half asleep. He wished there was something he could build to make the little human not so scared. _

_ The boy's head nodded forward as whatever adrenaline had coursed through him drained away. "Come on," Donny said softly. "Let's go back to bed. It's safe now."_

_ The little boy said something Donny didn't quite catch as he led him back to his room._

_ "What?" Donny asked._

_ "'s okay. Mr. Splinter's gonna watch for awhile."_

_ And Donny looked over, and his father stood just outside his bedroom door, hand over his mouth. There was horror in the rat's warm eyes. And just that was enough to tell Donny that this was every bit as heartbreaking as he thought it was._

_ It took Donny a long time to fall asleep. The next morning Splinter was already at the table, and all the furniture was back where it belonged. The little human didn't seem to remember any of it. At first, Donny wondered if maybe **he'd **been the one dreaming. But then he saw the way the little boy flinched when Raph picked up a butter knife._

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

The walls were cracked and holey, and there was more duct tape than drywall tape. The floors were dirty, and everything had a general sooty oiliness about it. The lights were yellow and dim, and the place was loud with guys and a few girls moving about, shouting every once in awhile to or at each other. Seemed a lot smaller than he remembered. _Suppose that's how it goes with those childhood memories…_

The memories were overpowering. As he walked, guy behind him still holding a gun on him, people stopped what they were doing and stared, and he half expected somebody to come up and cuff him in the side of the head, and he had to work to keep from ducking his head down and raising his shoulders. _Just recon. Just quick recon. They can't keep me here. I'm not that little kid anymore. I'm not._

They climbed a flight of stairs, and some of the graffiti was even still the same.

Through a door, and the upper level was mostly one big room. The only walls left standing were the load-bearing ones.

"Petey. Little Petey. That you?" There was that voice. Eight years. It had been eight years. And still, every nerve fired, telling him to duck away, to hide, to make himself small, to be invisible before he got _hurt._ He only just managed to keep from flinching.

He swallowed. Then he smiled wide. "Hey, Shifty. Wow. I thought you'd be dead. You look…well, at least you're not dead." The man would've been around twenty eight now. In street years that made him about seventy. And he was everything that was a nightmare.

The years hadn't been kind. Shift was bigger than he'd been at twenty. Harder. Wore a black shirt with the sleeves cut off and the red band tied to his right arm. Had a few more tattoos. None of them pretty. His hair was still black, but shorter. His face looked more chiseled than it had before, and there was a scar on his left eyebrow Mikey didn't remember. Still, his face could morph into that same cold, hollow smirk that covered every emotion and made him utterly unpredictable.

"Wow," Shift chuckled. "Look at you. Grew a backbone and everything. I gotta say, kid. This is…surreal."

_You have no idea._ "Well. You know. I was in the neighborhood. Figured, eh. What the hey. Would've called first, but your number's unlisted. At least, it wasn't listed under 'Low-life street scum with god complexes and unsuitably poor penmanship.' I did find you a willing date for next weekend, though. Wear your best." There came a ripple of shock and amusement from the members littered around the room.

The smirk. Shift could've been amused. He could've been enraged. No real way to tell. "Want to know how your chances of walking away from this are doing?"

Mikey affected an innocent shrug. "Probably still better than yours of getting into college?"

There was a chorus of "Ohhhhh," and other easily readable sounds of amusement and rage and the excitement of impending bloodshed from the members. Shift chuckled again, and that didn't mean anything. He took a step forward. "You come here to say a piece? You get that brave, little Petey?"

"I gotta be honest, I could've done without seeing your face again ever. I got a favor to ask you."

He tilted his head to the side, and there was actual inquisitiveness. Wow. Shift must be very _very_ surprised at him. Not that Mike could blame him. "Why would you come to me for a favor?"

"Why do you think?"

"I think you wouldn't. Unless…unless I was the _only _one on the planet who could do it. And it would have to be really important."

"I suppose."

"Like life and death."

"You're sounding god-complexy again."

Shift nodded. "I'm listening, Petey. I'm listening. Make this good."

Mikey stared at him. And nothing was funny. Nothing was funny in this whole situation. His heart was hammering in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears, and he wanted to be away from here; he wanted to be far, far away with the promise of never ever ever going back. He took a short breath. "I need you to tell me what happened the night you took me."

Shift's eyes were relentless. The empty gaze was the sort that took hold and demanded attention, refused to let go, looked straight through anyone it caught. Then Shift laughed. Shift out and out laughed. The room was utterly silent. It wasn't that Shift didn't laugh often. It was that no one knew what it meant when he did. "Why—why, oh, why—would you think you could come in here, and I would tell you anything about anything? Did you expect I should have tea and crumpets here, and we could sit down and have an amicable chat?"

"I'll take a crumpet. Tea makes me hyper."

Shift narrowed his gaze. "_Answer_ me." Pure venom. It made Mikey's spine feel numb.

"Because if you don't tell me," Mikey said slowly, "then I will kill you."

The room went still. No one. No one had ever…Mikey was sure. Shift didn't get threats. He was a gang leader that didn't get threatened like that. Not by his guys. Not by other gangs. Not even by police.

Shift's eyes widened; his eyebrows rose. No one. The silence seemed to last for years. And then, calculating, "Where have you been, Petey?" he finally asked.

Mikey smiled. "I got adopted."

And the next thing he knew, Shift was there, all speed and power, and he still over-rotated his shoulder, and that was the only weakness Mikey had ever seen in him. Mikey dodged the fist, stepping in and through, and ultimately it was Shift's own speed and power that ended up crashing him into the door and halfway down the stairs. Mikey dropped his hands to his sides casually, going up on his toes to see if he could see the fallen gang boss. He looked around at the slack-jawed faces of the gang members. Yeah. As he'd suspected: no one. "You know, it's probably really inappropriate that you're all here. This is sort of a private thing. And I can imagine how Shifty might find this embarrassing."

Shift came up the stairs then, one at a time, and once again, his face was a mask of a smirk. Even under the cut on his head that was bleeding all over his eye. "Got quick, didn't you."

Mikey shook his head. "I think you're slowing down, old man." He gestured at the other gang members. "While you were gone, they all swore they'd still respect you after seeing you get your butt kicked. None of them, however, are willing to follow you if you're dead." He shrugged. "Sorry."

Shift tilted his head. "Who do you think you are?"

"Who do _you _think I am?" Mikey asked dangerously. He called upon all his skills to sell it. He didn't know _why_ they'd always been afraid of him. But if there was ever a time he needed to use it to his advantage it was now. "You know, Shift. Come on. You know who I am."

"Those are fairy tales." Shift sounded off.

"Sure?"

"They're _fairy tales._"

"Never kept you up at night? Once? You never wondered? Never wondered if I'd be back one day? Like this?" Mikey took a step forward.

Shift held up a finger, "You stay away from me you little demon," he spat before he remembered himself. Mikey blinked. Shift was all about control. Shift was unraveling.

"I just want the information, dude. And I will walk away. And you will never have to deal with me again. Ever. Or you could tell me no right now. And you will never have to deal with _anyone_ again. Ever." He pursed his lips. "Yeah, there's really no third option."

Shift rubbed his jaw. Dabbed uselessly at the cut on his head with the back of his hand. "Do you remember why they call me Shift?"

"Because of the violent mood swings," Mikey answered promptly and sweetly.

"No. Because…"

"Because you already had brothers named Alt and Delete?"

"I…"

"Gotta say, Spacebar got the best out of all of you."

"_No._" He took a deep breath. "They call me Shift because I always have a way of turning the tables. You're not on the solid ground you think you are."

Mikey glanced down. "Did you install a trapdoor?" He sensed the movement before he ever saw it, and he knew it was coming before that. Some things didn't change. Before Mikey even looked up, he'd already thrown the shuriken and was airborne. The two knives passed under him as he laid out, flipping his feet over and landing in front of where he'd been standing just as Shift frantically threw a third. Mikey jumped over it, closing the distance between them, and catching Shift's hand before he could throw the fourth. He twisted until the knife hit the floor, and then kicked out the back of Shift's knee, dropping the man to a kneeling position before making quick work of removing the blades from both boots, waistband, and small of the back. Seven knives. It had always been seven.

Mikey took one of them, held it to Shift's throat. "Clear the room," he ordered.

And in that moment, Mikey was sure that Shift's pride would be more valuable to him than his life. His men, some of them Mikey's age, were on their feet, weapons in hand, uncertain. Wavering.

"I told you," Mikey said. "All I want is a conversation. You owe me that."

Shift took a deep breath. On the inhale, his throat touched the knife, and he didn't flinch. "Go," he said. "All of you. Leave now."

In shock, and with fear on their faces, they left, looking at Mikey like he was a beast. "Oh, hey. Dude. You wanna shut the door behind you? Thanks, man." And they were alone. He was alone in a room with Shift. And there had been a time when the very idea of that would have left him absolutely terrified. And this was still that time. Very carefully, Mikey lowered the knife. He didn't like knives very much.

He glanced at where the knives Shift threw had embedded themselves into the wall across the room. Noted the positioning. "You weren't trying to kill me."

"No, I thought I'd wing you," Shift said, and he was again as unruffled as ever. And it made Mikey wonder who was playing who. "See if you still bleed." The man stood and looked at his arm where his armband had been. Noted where Mikey's shuriken had nailed it to the wall. He went to the wall and pulled it free, leaving the shuriken in place. The armband was frayed, the coat of arms unrecognizable. "I suppose you don't think you owe me anything."

"If we're keeping score, actually I owe you _plenty_."

"I raised you, you know."

"I know. I almost didn't survive it." And it scared him to think of what would have happened if Splinter hadn't gotten ahold of him when he did. "Tell me what happened, Shift. I'll call us even."

Shift looked at him. "You really don't remember, do you?"

"Would I be here?"

The man let out a cool breath. "I wasn't there. No one was."

"What happened?"

"Your mother tried to leave town. It was stupid of her." Mikey only just stopped himself from hitting the guy. "We were watching. The Foot were watching, too. But she decided to flee. On a bus. It was pure, foolish desperation."

"Just tell me what happened," Mikey said tightly.

"I sent a crew. We were going to pick you both up. The Foot sent their hoard, too."

Mikey tried to remember. _Late night and tired and people bustling; Mommy bought the tickets, and she was afraid, so afraid, and he couldn't help her; he thought if he could just be very strong and brave he could help her, and he held her hand, and she held his so tight, and smiled, and even her smile was tight. _

"I got there," Shift went on. "I got there before the Foot could send another wave. And there I found you. At the bus depot. I believe the media covered it as a 'gas leak.' No one really knew what happened. Anyone who wasn't fighting had fled when the fighting began. And anyone who _was_ fighting, was dead."

Mikey shook his head. _Remember. Remember._ It seemed so close, but there was _nothing._

"I got there and all my people were dead. All the Foot were _dead_. Your mother was dead. Everyone was dead. Except you."

"Dead how?"

"Heart attacks. Twenty-five young, healthy guys, and they all just dropped where they were because their hearts stopped working. And you…you really don't remember."

"I remember after," Mikey said quietly. He'd been five. His mom was gone. He was trapped in a place with people, all of them huge, and they'd hated him. And they were _afraid _of him. And he had never understood.

"The legend was born. Son of the Shredder. Half my guys already thought he had some sort of Eastern magic or something. And then there was you. Five years old. And somehow you'd taken out twenty-five men without leaving a trace."

"Oh. Right." And he felt a little dizzy. "Guess that would explain the lightning-shaped scar on my forehead."

Shift chuckled. "Fairy tales."

Mikey shook his head. "So you all thought _I'd_ gone crazy and killed my mom in the process?"

"Oh, no," he said, offhand. "No, the thought was that you'd gone crazy after. See, her heart was fine. No, somebody stabbed _her_."

_Pain in his chest. Pain and red. Red, red, red, everywhere, and her eyes…_ Mikey choked on his breath. "Why were you all after us?"

"There was word that Shredder was working on some sort of weapon. Something unbeatable. And it went missing. It went missing with his wife. After all that happened, people started talking. People started wondering if maybe you were it."

A weapon? Twenty five dead. They thought he was some sort of...what? Bomb? And Shift...Shift was crazy enough to keep him nearby. And proud enough or brave enough to prove he wasn't scared of this five-year-old kid. "So you took me."

"And raised you," he reminded. "And you were going to be one of us; you were always going to be one of us. Eventually. So yes. I took you. And I made you stronger."

"You tortured me for almost three years!" Mikey shook his head, disgusted. "You tortured me because you thought…you thought I was a _weapon_?"

"I thought it was fairy tales," Shift reminded. "I did what I did because I hated you," he said simply. "And I hate your father. And I wanted to hurt him. And I wanted to someday see you kill him because I'd asked you to. I thought it would be poetic. Guess I was a bit of a romantic in those days."

"I was _five_. My mom had got me away from him. I wasn't a part of any of it." It was all so pointless. It was all so _wrong._ "You could've…you could've just let me go. You could've let it be over."

"Your mother was an idiot. He wasn't going to let her go. He certainly wasn't going to let you go. In fact, if you want to blame _someone…she's_ the one who dropped you in my lap. If I hadn't gotten to you, it would've been the Shredder. Or is that where you've been the last, what's it been? Eight years? You a Foot clan member now?"

"No." He would never. He would _never…_

"Then you're welcome."

Mikey stood, breathing. Just breathing. It was too much. It was all too much. He couldn't do this. He shouldn't have come; he couldn't handle it; it wasn't true. None of it could be true, and even if any part of any of it was true, he didn't know how to handle it.

"So I take it you're not actually a mystical creature who calls down death?"

Mikey didn't answer. He knew too many creatures who called down death. He was standing in a room with one.

"Too bad. I was sort of pulling for you." And something about Shift…shifted. "Guess it's okay, though. I have to tell you the truth, I thought you were annoying as a kid. Figured you'd grow out of it. You've gotten worse, actually. The new you is a little more fun to play with, though. Old you was so…breakable. Fragile. No matter what I did to toughen you up, you'd just huddle up and take it. I tried teaching you things, I tried punishing you. Nothing to it. You were just generally a disappointment." Each of his words was a blow. Each of his words was a lesson. Each of his words was a moment of pain and brokenness and believing he somehow deserved it. "Can't imagine who would have 'adopted' you. More power to them, really. They managed to teach you some quickness at least. A little showmanship. But you take a house with a weak foundation, and it doesn't matter what sort of pretty things you slap on the outside," Mikey didn't even see the blow coming, and it landed neatly across his face, snapping his head to the side, "it's still weak." Mikey blinked quickly, clearing the haze from his eyes. And there was Shift. Looking down at him. Close. Too close. Mikey took a step back, toward the wall.

"I don't know who it was told you that you might be worth something. I don't know what it was gave you the stupid, suicidal idea that you could walk in here like you're somebody, and tell me what to do, talking big like I ever had to take that from you. But I will tell you this. You have nothing to thank them for." And he moved, and the punch would've landed in Mikey's teeth, but Mikey dodged back, and his back hit the wall beside the window, and it made his breath catch.

He looked down, felt the giant looming. "You over-rotate in the shoulder," he said quietly, and his back pressed against the wall, and he wouldn't escape, he would never escape. They'd keep him here forever, until he was dead. And if he tried to leave, they'd cut him.

Shift paused briefly. "Thank you, Petey."

And Mikey shook his head. No. That wasn't his name. That wasn't his name. That wasn't his _name._ And Shift came in, and the moment, he got close enough, Mikey snapped a front kick as hard as he could, and it was a simple kick with no flare, and one he'd done thousands and thousands of times, and it caught the man under the jaw.

Shift fell back, hands at his jaw, and he screamed through his teeth, pure hateful rage. Mikey's eyes widened, and he watched as the man's hand disappeared into his shirt, and there was a necklace, and there was a three inch blade.

An eighth knife. Something had to change in eight years.

Before Mikey could move, there was the tinkle of glass, and the next thing he knew, Shift screamed again, and there was a shuriken bitten into his hand. Mikey froze. _What? How...?_

The window beside him slid up, and a large hand grabbed Mikey's arm, pulling him out the window, and flinging him out away from the building. He landed atop a white van and rolled off the other side, landing on his feet in the street before he even knew what happened. A heavier weight hit the van and landed on the street beside him. The same hand grabbed his arm. "Run!"

Mikey ran. That hand was on him all the way, and it had three fingers, and it was green, and it was Donny, and Mikey could not for the life of him figure out how Donny could be there, and it took at least three minutes of running for Mikey to figure out he didn't care. Donny saved him. All the nightmares he could remember were the ones where Shift was going to kill him. Or Shift killing someone he loved. And it took until he was sixteen for him in all his creativity to imagine that his brother could show up and save him.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Donatello kept a firm grip on Mikey's arm the whole way. There was no way he was letting go. The minute he let go, probably the little screwball would up and run away again. And they_ just got him back!_ Don was furious, fuming, and running hard on adrenaline. He'd shown up, watching his brother from across the street, watched as the kid _took off his mask_ and went into this shady joint _at gunpoint._ And it was all Don could do not to bust in right then. He'd adjusted his vantage point until he could see his little brother through a second story window, and he didn't have any idea what was going on, but Mikey had played it like he had everything under control, but even from a distance, Don knew when his kid brother was trying to con somebody. And this big goon had _knives_ and who _were_ these people and what the _heck_ was going on?

Once they were miles away from that nasty building and that twisted guy, he stopped on a rooftop and finally swung Mikey around to face him. "What the heck were you _thinking_? You pick the night after we get you back to go on some crazy solo trip without _telling anybody_? What just happened? And why in the world wouldn't you tell me? Are you just _trying_ to get yourself killed? Because I can think of a few individuals who would be pretty unhappy with that particular outcome, and the reason I happen to know this for a fact is because we just spent an entire night scared to death that that might be the case! So enlighten me, then! Why would you pick _right now_ to be an undiluted, reckless, indescribable, irrationally foolish, senseless _moron_?"

And Mikey stood there, looking like he hadn't really heard him. Breathing quick and quiet. Just looking at _him._ Not looking worried or guilty or nervous or indifferent or goofy or anything else. Just seeing Donny. Just looking at him. The way he did when he was eight and he'd just woken up from a nightmare, and Donny was there. And the anger was put on hold to allow for the concern. "Mikey?"

And his little brother threw himself forward into Donny's arms and hugged him like he didn't ever plan on letting go.


	8. Both Ways

Two updates in one year? Look who got writer swag.

Yeah...that's a joke. A very sad joke.

* * *

Act VIII

April reached blindly toward the nightstand as her phone went off. She was gonna kill Casey. Somehow her ringtone had been switched to "Call Me Maybe," and yes, so it was possible one of the Hamatos had done it, but Casey was her boyfriend, so she was allowed to kill him, and that was the only kind of logic that existed when it was dark and the clock read A.M., and "Call Me Maybe" was playing _loudly_. She fumbled to answer, almost knocking her lamp over, and without even bothering to check the I.D. "It's going to be stuck in my head all day," she groaned. She glanced at the clock. 4:58. Wait a minute. No way was this Casey calling. "I mean…Hello?"

"Um, April?"

"Leo?" Worry brought a more useful level of consciousness. She didn't know what would drive Leo to call her at five in the morning, but with everything going on, she would've bet money it wasn't good. Also, she was sort of cynical anyway.

"Hey. Wow. It's so early. I guess I woke you up. Sorry about that."

"What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Really no. Probably not. Just…Don and Mikey haven't been by at all have they?"

"Mikey's missing again?"

"Well, I mean, Don's with him, I'm sure. I'm sure everything's fine. I was just checking. Sorry I woke you."

"Leo, wait. I'm coming down there."

"You really don't have to, April. I'm sure they're both fine."

"And I'm sure you're right. That's why I'll pick Casey up and grab doughnuts on the way."

There was a pause before she heard the smile. "You're totally highest on our speed dial."

"Because I'm awesome."

"Because you're _Batman_."

She ended the call and then called Casey. He answered on the fifth ring sounding rather disheveled. "_Hate_." He literally didn't have a whole sentence. It wasn't "I hate you," or "I hate mornings." He said the word "_Hate_," in a vaguely seething, not fully conscious manner.

"Morning, cupcake. Need you to put on pants and brush your teeth. I'll be by in twenty to pick you up."

"Wha? April? Why?"

"Because it might be chilly, and my car has heated seats, and because I don't trust you to obey traffic laws this early in the morning."

"…Oh."

She hung up and tried to convince herself she wasn't rushing to get ready and out the door. There was minimal success. She was worried. Leo was worried. He didn't hide it as well as he liked. Or maybe she was just getting used to spotting it. She had lived with them all for almost three months. She liked to think she was pretty good at reading them.

By the time she got to Casey's he was sitting on the fire escape, waiting for her, and that was mildly shocking, but probably shouldn't have been. "So what's the story?"

"Would you believe we're just picking up doughnuts for our favorite subterranean family?"

He shrugged. "I'd believe we're picking up doughnuts. Probably don't believe we're _just _picking up doughnuts."

So she told him about Leo's phone call, and really, there wasn't much to tell. They got apple fritters for Splinter and chocolate long johns for Leo and jelly doughnuts for Raph. And they certainly got the blueberry cake doughnuts for Donny and the rainbow sprinkles for Mikey.

"I don't ever want to be a baker," Casey said as he paid for the doughnuts at 5:30 a.m.

"I feel like butcher and candlestick maker should also be out."

"What? I'd make some pretty hot candles." She glanced at him. He shrugged. "It's not even six a.m. Don't ask me to be hilarious."

When they got to the lair, it was quiet. Leo and Raph were both pacing, but they both seemed like they were trying to look like they weren't. Splinter sat in his chair.

"Didn't know doughnut places delivered," Raph said.

Casey held up the box. "Probably won't for long. I haven't made jack in tips."

April went and sat on the couch near Splinter. He looked at her warmly. "It was kind of you to come to have breakfast with us."

"Anytime. So. You haven't heard…"

"Not yet," Leo answered. "But I bet they show up any minute. It's not weird to stay out late. We've all done it."

April nodded and tucked her feet under her on the sofa. She looked around. It was amazing how much she'd really come to like this place. It was an abandoned subway station under the streets of New York. It really had no right to be a home. But it was. In all the best ways it was. And it was because of this family. This odd little family that had to stay hidden and secret, but had welcomed both her and Casey with open arms and endless hospitality.

She glanced at Splinter. There was a book in his lap, and it wasn't even opened, so he must have given up the pretense of reading it some time ago. The elderly rat was tense in his shoulders and hands, even though to look at his face would've given lessons in calm. She wondered briefly if her parents had ever waited up for her like that. It didn't look like fun at all. But there was a certain beauty in it. A certain selflessness that she couldn't remember seeing during her childhood. But it was still easily recognized as something paternal.

"Do you think this has something to do with the Shredder?" she asked quietly.

"No," Splinter answered immediately. He looked at her with a wan smile. "But I suppose that is only…" He paused and seemed to try to think of the word. "Hope," he decided.

"Well, I guess if it was, he would've told you about it."

"Yes," the ninja master said. But there was something.

Casey sat beside April, and his arm went around her shoulders. "You think the kid wouldn't tell you?"

Splinter was silent for a moment. "Not always, perhaps."

"But Donny would," Leo said. "Donny definitely would. The two of them probably just went for a run and ran out a bit farther than they meant to."

"Yeah," Raph agreed. "Donny's got a one-track mind, and Mikey's got…about a point-two track mind. It'd be like them. They'll be back any second. If not, I got dibs on their doughnuts." And he went back to not-pacing.

All the logic in the world said that the two were fine. They wouldn't both be gone if there was a real problem. But it didn't really matter. There would be worry and concern. And no matter what Raph said, nobody was really very interested in doughnuts.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_Donny tried the kick for the forty-ninth time. And for the forty-ninth time, he ended up on his shell. It was a complicated technique, one they'd been working on for weeks. Really, it was three kicks, all in the air, and it involved a flip while applying a tornado kick to three set targets at three different levels. Half of it was executed upside down. Mechanically, Donny understood every part of it. He knew how high he needed to be; he knew the rotation he needed to get in his hips; he knew where he needed to turn in the air to hit each target. But he was pretty sure he was going to die before he ever got it right._

_ A three-fingered hand appeared in his line of vision. Which was fine because the ceiling was getting to be a pretty boring sight. Donny took Leo's hand and let his brother lever him up._

_ "I think you were closer that time," Leo offered. It might've even been true. There was no real way to tell. Leo had gotten the move right for the first time nine days ago. Now he could do it with an almost sickening precision. Raph had done it correctly two days ago. He was still clumsy with it, but he landed it every time. And Donny…well frankly, Donny was considering… "Donny," Leo said. "You can't give yourself super ninja bionic implants."_

_ Donny sighed. "Yes, but **why**?" And when had he become that transparent?_

_ His older brother grinned. "Do they exist?"_

_ "Not **yet**," Donny conceded, only a little petulant, and he crossed his arms, and he wasn't pouting, he was **thinking**, and those were two entirely different separate things. Of course, bionic implants were currently completely outside the realm of possibility. Even if he had the technology—which he didn't; he was decades away—a procedure like that in these conditions…the possibility of infection alone…_

_ "Donny." Leo's hand was on his shoulder, and he was still grinning a bit, but he was not about nonsense. "Come on. Just try it again. Try to get a little more vertical. You're rotating too early." He looked at something over Donny's shoulder and his smile widened. He nodded in that direction. Donny turned to see what it was, and mostly Donny smiled because Leo was smiling. The little human was sitting up against the wall, and his eyes had drooped shut, and he was nodding heavily, some part of him still fighting what looked to be shaping up to be a pretty epic accidental nap. And Donny smiled because Leo thought it was **cute**. _

_ Donny snickered behind his hand. "Think we're boring him?"_

_ "Us? Couldn't be. We're entertainment gold."_

_ Raph dropped the tonfas he was working with and blustered toward the door. "Yeah. If they like freak shows."_

_ The angry voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to make the little human's eyes snap open and dart around, immediately wary and assessing._

_ Leo didn't seem affected. Really they were all pretty used to the routine. "And Raph exits stage right. Always can count on you for comedic relief, brother."_

_ Probably if Splinter had heard what Raph said back, he would've been grounded. As it was, their sensei had gone to the kitchen to make dinner fifteen minutes ago. And Donny wouldn't tell. Still, though, he watched after Raph. A lot of times, if Donny was having trouble with something like this kick, Raph would hang back and work out with him. Leo was the one who really liked to teach and explain and all that, and he was really good at it, but Raph was the one who would offer to launch Donny over and over again so he'd have more hang time to practice the kick airborne. Who needs a trampoline when you have a brother who likes throwing stuff? Donny felt his smile fall. Raph was being a jerk. Raph was being a big jerk. And he still didn't know why. But he missed his brother._

_ "Come on," Leo clapped his shoulder. "Let's do this. Concentrate."_

_ Donny heaved a put-upon sigh and brushed off the disappointed and the hurt. Clapped his hands together. "Concentrate. Right." He really wanted to get this to work tonight. He was never two days behind his brothers._

_ And four seconds later, he was looking at the ceiling again. "**Argh**," he growled and pounded the mat with one hand. He **knew** what he needed to do. He'd studied it and dissected it and memorized every single piece. He could diagram the thing if he wanted. So why couldn't he **do** it? _

_ A human face appeared over him, head tilted, blue eyes blinking down at him. _

_ Donny smirked. "Graceful, right?"_

_ "Ballerinas are graceful," the little human said helpfully. And Donny didn't **think** the kid was teasing him on purpose. _

_ "I am not a ballerina."_

_ "You are **definitely** not a ballerina," he agreed. More innocent blinking. _

_And of course Leo cracked up. "Come on, Don. I think you'd make an awesome ballerina."_

_"I think you'd make a terrible motivational speaker." And really, Donny thought it was funny, too. He reached his hand up, but the little human skittered away, and it was more instinct than real fear. The boy had been jumpy lately. Maybe he was always jumpy. But the nightmares were such that the poor kid was still sleeping on Donny's floor instead of the couch. _

_Leo's hand slipped in smoothly and pulled Donny up before the little human could really think about it or get embarrassed. "Well. Since all our dreams are crushed…you want to try again?"_

_"It just keeps ending the same way, Leo. How many more times do you really want to see me land on my shell?"_

_"Don't feel bad, Donny," the little human comforted, playing with the punching bag in the corner. "It's funny **every** time." And he was just so sincere._

_Leo didn't quite manage to cover the laugh with his hand. "Yeah," he said, also failing to keep a straight face. "Don't sell yourself short."_

_Donny glared at the entire world._

_"You just need to concentrate a little harder," Leo tried, serious this time. "You're so close. You just have to follow it all the way through. You're hesitating."_

_There was a small sound of disagreement from over by the punching bag that made both turtles turn their heads. The little human didn't seem to notice and bowed to the punching bag like a fancy maître d and then straightened its invisible collar, oblivious._

_"What?" Donny asked._

_There came from the boy a very discerning, "Eh," that was more or less a verbal shrug._

_Donny grinned at his brother, and the two went closer to the human boy. "What's that, little human?"_

_The boy was now looking very suspiciously at the bag which seemed to have offended him. "Hm? Oh, I just don't think you gotta concentrate harder." And it looked like he was going to give that bag what for, but he stopped. And seemed like he lost a little color. He looked up, and realized the turtles were closer, and he took a step back. His eyes darted back and forth between them, evaluating, measuring, looking for all the anger that wasn't there. Donny held his position and nailed his smile in place. Made sure nothing showed except the friendship and the invitation and the safety. He thought Leo was doing the same thing. _

_"How come?" Leo asked, so calm and warm. And sometimes Donny was convinced that Leo always knew exactly what to do all the time._

_Gradually, the tenseness faded, and the uncertainty went back on standby. "Just…you think so…loud, Donny."_

_And that was absolutely unexpected. "I…what?"_

_"When you think, it's not just all in your head. It's in your whole…" he gestured up and down, "self."_

_Usually Donny understood things. He was sure he did. "…Can you hear what I'm thinking…now?"_

_The little boy raised an eyebrow. "Now you're talking crazy, Donny."_

_"**I** am?"_

_"I don't hear **what** you're thinking. Just when you're thinking so so hard, it makes your whole body move. Your face and your whole head and your shoulders and your back and your arms and your knees and everything they're connected to, which is…all of you."_

_"…All of me."_

_"Yeah. Like this." And he morphed into this pose like he was folded in on himself a little with shoulders forward and one arm folded across his chest, and the other hand on his chin, and his forehead creased in deep concentration, and his eyes laser-focused on something miles away like he wouldn't notice if a train crashed through the wall._

_"Whoa," Leo said beside him. "Donny. That is **exactly** what you do."_

_"I do not."_

_Leo glanced at him. "Bro. You really do." He looked at the little boy. "Can you do Splinter?"_

_"Leo," Donny cut in. He looked at his human friend. "I look like that?"_

_"Yeah. Because you're so smart. But sometimes you gotta not think so hard. It locks you up. Sometimes you just gotta do it. Even if it's not all just like what's in your head. Just do **something.** It's always safer to do something than not anything. One hundred percent."_

_Overthinking. Was that even a thing? All the techniques he did, he kept a sort of file in his brain with their schematics, with exactly how to execute them. He knew them backwards and forward. …And he hadn't beaten Leo in a sparring match in almost a year. Longer for Raph. Was it possible? "But you **can't** do something without **thinking** about it."_

_The kid shrugged. "I do. All the time."_

_"Well, what does that even look like exactly?" _

_"Like…" Little human went out to the mat and stood with his feet together and pointed with both fingers at his mouth. "You smile," he demonstrated with a wide, exaggerated smile. "And you think, 'This is about to be so fun no matter what.' And then you jump so that you feel the air, and you see the ground and the ceiling and everything to hit. And it's like, boom." And then the kid crouched like Spiderman, with one hand on the ground, and his smile was real. And then he jumped. And it wasn't mechanical perfection or precision. It was **athleticism**. It was feeling and discovering and moving and **eight years old** and **human**. And there was a flip, and he was upside down with the tornado kick, spinning, rotating to three, and the strikes were about where they should be, and the landing was low, but he **landed** it. One hand came down to the mat for balance, but he popped up, grinning. Just grinning like he was simple and like that wasn't incredible. "You're going to love it, Donny! It's awesome! You try!"_

_Donny felt his mouth hanging open. He couldn't even answer._

_"Whoa." Leo sounded about where Donny was. "Buddy. I knew you could… But that was…"_

_The little boy looked back and forth between them, and his enthusiasm visibly dimmed, and his hands were at his sides, and he was a little further away and nervous and apologetic. "But I…I could work on it more. I could…I could get it right." And he flinched when nobody was there. Like he'd set off an invisible trap somewhere in his mind. "Or I could…or I could not…"_

_"That was awesome!" Donny said, and probably he was a little too loud. The little human jumped, and maybe Leo did, too. "Leo, did you see that? Has he done that before?" He knew about the late night training sessions they'd had. He was glad. It seemed like on the nights he stayed up late with Leo there were fewer nightmares._

_"No. I've never seen him do anything close to that big. That was crazy! You didn't tell me you could pull out techniques like that. Holy cow. Your feet were like over my head. What are you, like part grasshopper or something?"_

_"I think he might be part turtle," Donny said, and wow. He was **proud**. He had no idea. He'd seen the little guy be quick. But that was pure…special._

_"Either way. Buddy, you definitely have some green in you."_

_The kid looked as amazed as both of them. Maybe more. And Donny realized this wasn't something he'd gotten from them yet. They'd been encouragers and comforters and friends. But this was praise. They were **impressed**. And if the look on the kid's face was any indication, this was not something that he had any kind of recent experience with. "I…I…" And he clearly did not understand._

_So Donny tried to lay it out for him. "Good. Job. That was incredible, little human. You did a good job." And Donny smiled wide at him and got purposely close and bumped him with his shoulder, and probably could've knocked the little boy over in that moment. And then that little human boy was positively **glowing**. Still amazed and overwhelmed. But that kid glowed under the praise. Eyes wide, and smile blinding, he glowed._

_"My sons," Splinter called from the entryway. "It is time for our evening meal."_

_"Master Splinter!" Leo even forgot to bow. "Did you see that?" And their father hadn't seen, and the little human seemed to shrink a bit at the idea of doing it in front of the ninja master, but no one pushed him to. Leo described the kick to Splinter, and the old rat had smiled and only seemed a little surprised, but he'd been warm and generous in his encouragement and approval. Donny and the human boy had eaten quickly, and then they'd run back to the training floor after dinner._

_The little human had immediately darted off toward Donny's room and returned with paper and scissors and colored pencils, and he'd drawn all the most distracting masks he could think of to help train Donny "to not think so much. You can't think too much when there's a…three-headed country opera singer trying to scare you." And there were two crazy faces, one sitting on each of the boy's shoulders. And after the debate over whether there was even such a thing as country opera, they played. _

_They laughed and argued and played, and there was some measure of confidence in the blue eyes. And there were those moments when those eyes were shadowless, and everything that was a nightmare wasn't visible, and for those couple hours with only occasional flinching and worrying and nervousness, the little human seemed like a kid and like he belonged and like all of it was normal. Donny ended up landing his kick, and they'd been so excited. Really, though, that was just a bonus._

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

It was always better when Mikey was saying something. Didn't matter if he was teasing or cracking jokes or shouting or rambling or laughing or even crying. It was always better when there was some noise coming from the youngest Hamato. It seemed a bit counterintuitive to think so of a ninja. Then again, a look across the surface, and one would think this particular young ninja was incapable of silence for any stretch. But he was. This particular young ninja knew very well how to keep his mouth shut. And when he did, it usually meant things like hopelessness and dark and fear and heartbreak. It usually meant everything in the world Don wished he could keep away from his brother.

Mikey had pulled away from him a minute ago and turned away to stand on the ledge of the roof, sinking into a crouch like a gargoyle, looking out over the city, tension pouring from his entire being. He still hadn't said a word. Sometimes it was some quick, straight, honest words that would snap Mikey back to himself. A lot of times it was distraction. Or reassurance. But then there were times like this when Donny was faced with looking at his brother and not _knowing_ what it was that was hurting so much. And these were usually the times, and they didn't happen often, when Don didn't need to say anything.

He walked up next to Mikey and sat, dangling his feet over the edge. Reached over and got a grip on the kid's arm and pulled him back off his feet so that he was sitting like Donny. Then he scooted over, making sure their shoulders and thighs were touching. And he watched the city.

The relatively few times Donny had seen the city during the day, everything looked sort of gray and lackluster, and even though the skyline was impressive, it didn't hold a candle to the way it looked now. At night the city was alive with light. Colorful and moving and defying the night sky. And up on the rooftop, everything looked clean, and they were so far removed from the gritty and the dirty that it was like none of that existed. The breeze blew upward and felt good after running. And he glanced over at his little brother, watched as that breeze ruffled his clothes and blew his hair around on his forehead, and mostly he saw the eyes that were staring out over the city and everything that was pretty about it and didn't seem to _see_ any of it. And mostly he saw the bruise forming on the left side of his brother's face.

Donny sighed. _What is going on with you, little brother?_ Mikey sat with his hands in his lap. Don reached over and snagged the left one by the wrist. Wasn't bruised or scraped around the knuckles. That was good. These knuckles were tough and hard from hours of hitting heavy bags and dummies. There was the scar from the third knuckle to halfway down his hand from a sticky situation that involved a fence, barbed wire, and a really cliché junkyard dog when they were kids. Little knick of a scar where thumb met hand from a little piece of wooden shrapnel the time they'd blown up a crate of roman candles—which admittedly could've been a lot worse. He turned the hand over, palm up. It was smaller than his. More fingers. Not green. Calluses from the time spent working with wooden nunchucks. Then there were the calluses that were identical to the ones Donny had from doing hundreds upon hundreds of disciplinary back handsprings for any one of dozens of adventures, very few of which he ever regretted even for a second.

"What are you doing?"

Donny looked up. The blue eyes that had been staring sightlessly at the sights were on him, questioning. Don smiled. "How many flips did we have to do the time the four of us snuck into Comic Con and you dressed as a Shy Guy, and Raph, Leo, and I told people we were Koopa Troopas?"

"He let us stop after 107. But probably just because Raph threw up."

Donny chuckled. They had all been so dizzy. 107. Wow. "Good memory." Mikey did have a good memory. Donatello hadn't doubted that from the moment the kid looked up at him and told him he had amnesia all those years ago. He let go of Mikey's hand. "You made fun of Raph for that for like a month."

"I made fun of Raph for that like yesterday." And there was that grin. That small, glinting, mischievous thing that was thoroughly Mikey. "It's good for him."

"Really? Is it also good for you?"

"A lot less so, actually." And that was all before Mikey turned and looked away, and was quiet for several more moments, and then he was leaning into Donny just a little, and his voice was just audible over the breeze. "How did you get there so fast, Donny?" And there wasn't a hint of pretense or casualness.

"I followed you."

"Why?"

"Because you're my brother. And you scare the ever-loving crap out of me sometimes." Ever-loving crap wasn't an oft-used term in his vocabulary. But he had a deep repertoire.

"I'm sorry."

"What happened? Why'd you leave?"

Mikey winced. "It was about my mom."

And Donny just didn't understand. Couldn't understand. This kid could be the most complicated puzzle. And normally Don loved puzzles. But it was time for this to get solved. Because there was never any part of this that was merely an intellectual exercise. This was his brother's life, and he'd had way too many scares lately concerning his brother's life. "How?"

"Well…you're not going to like it."

"I didn't like it from the moment you stepped up the ladder."

"Donny, I don't know…"

"Trust me."

He closed his mouth for a moment. But in the end, he trusted Donny. Donny had a lot of faith in that trust. It was the kind that had been hard-earned and tried and tested, and in the end, it was always a gift. "There was a gang called the Proud Tide. Once upon a time. They were my…they were…before. Before I was with you. I was with them."

And there was a sudden ringing in Don's ears. Of rage and what almost felt like panic, and there was blackness and anger and everything that Don had ever hated. They'd met those guys before; they'd fought those guys before, and Don hadn't _known. _That nasty run-down, condemned-looking building and the filthy, empty, dead-eyed people in it. Mikey couldn't have grown up in a place like that. "Tell me," he said quietly. And he reached out and grabbed the hand he knew better than the back of his own and gripped it tight.

Because there were things he didn't know about his little brother. And he'd only caught glimpses of horrors through years of nightmares and instinctive worries and fears, and he didn't _know._ And he'd always thought that one day he would. And now that he might find out, he found that it scared him. Because if the small, barely discernible tremors he felt in his brother were any indication, what he was about to hear was going to absolutely tear him apart. And he knew it. And still he felt like he'd never needed to know anything this badly.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

_It was late when Splinter's door burst open, and the ninja master reacted immediately and still only had time to sit up before there was a bundle of shaking, crying, nearly hysterical turtle on his bed, clinging to him and sobbing earnestly and utterly inconsolable. _

_ "My son," Splinter whispered, and truly the old rat had little to say for shock. This was not the norm. His sons were not prone to fits of this sort, and even had they been, this seemed a deeper thing than a childish hurt or outburst. And to add to the worrying, it was Donatello. Donatello, who was a gentle soul and perhaps the most sensitive of his sons, but when Donatello was troubled, he tended toward pondering and silence. To consider and conclude. But this was no silent pondering. This was something rawer and previously unbeheld in the young turtle. "Donatello. What troubles you, my son?"_

_ "Daddy," he choked, and he continued to cry. And his sobs were such that he could not even speak. Splinter tried to maneuver the young turtle away from his chest so that he could see his face, but the child would have none of it. He held tightly to the fabric of his father's robe and buried his face there as if Splinter were the only one on earth who could fell whatever giant would dare raise a hand against him. He shook and cried, and his body was tense and coiled and racked with each shuddering sob. "Are you hurt?" Splinter asked, and his own calm felt as though it were fraying in its center. Donatello shook his head against his chest. There was some relief in that. Donatello was not the one who had feared thunderstorms when he was younger, nor the one who would often come calling after a nightmare. Very few times had this bright-minded child needed so badly to be close. Therefore, now was cause for question, but hardly for hesitation. The ninja master adjusted himself on the bed and wrapped both arms around his young son and held him. Without knowledge of what it was that could shake his precious child so, he only resolved himself to be trusted protector and comforter for however many moments he would be allowed. And really, even in spite of a parent's worry, that was a joy and honor all its own. _

_ Splinter rocked Donatello gently and did not shush him or ask any more questions. For several minutes, he rocked, and he hummed, and he held. And sometimes in English and sometimes in Japanese, he would say, "You are loved, Donatello. You need not fear," and "Breathe easy, my son. You are safe," and such true things as that. _

_ Eventually the harsh sobs receded into sniffing and hiccupping and then into quiet, deep breaths, and yet the child still seemed dismayed. After many minutes more, Donatello's hands fisted in Splinter's robe, and he said quietly, the tears still very present in his voice, "They hurt him. They hurt him **so** **much**."_

_ And the old master's heart nearly hesitated. This certainly was not a childish outcry. This was righteous anger and heartache and a spirit that hurt for the wrong done to another. "Tell me."_

_ "He came back from playing with Leo, and he was…changing his shirt, and I didn't know…he was there, and he…didn't know th-that I was, and…and I saw." His breaths still hitched in the aftershock of still-present grief. "His back. Daddy, they…" He could not finish._

_ The father's heart was in his throat. "What did it look like?"_

_ He took several steadying breaths. And his answer was a mixture of sharp analysis and helpless ignorance that contained more maturity than any creature of only ten years should ever possess. "Some of it looked like a strap. Or maybe a whip. I don't know. And some of it was…short and thick and angled, like…like a piece of wood. And there was…a big…I think they cut him. I think they cut him on his back. With a knife." His breathing was quick, and the child hardly knew what to do, and he had such an incredible mind, even an emotional maturity, but this he could not process. And Splinter could not blame him._

_ "Were they tended to, my son?" Splinter's own voice sounded low and raspy to his ears._

_ "A lot of them…a lot of them looked like this." And he pointed to his knee. There was a scar there that ran vertically over his kneecap from an errant slide and a broken vase. It was three years old. The scar tissue had stretched with time as Donatello grew. "But some of them looked newer."_

_ Splinter nodded. And every time that little boy had flinched, every time he had looked at Splinter with eyes full of fear, full of **certainty**, every time he'd fought a sleep that would bring nightmares, every time he'd said words that hinted of a life no child should know sparked in the master's mind, and every time the boy had smiled in stark, beautiful defiance of all of that took hostage his heart. "Scars are wounds that have already healed, my son," Splinter tried to comfort. "They will not hurt him here."_

_ "Memories can hurt," Donatello replied, and it was rare, sharp rebellion, but the turtle still held tightly to him. "And sometimes," he whispered, "Sometimes scars are memories."_

_ And sometimes children were great teachers. "Yes," Splinter answered quietly. And how he'd wished to shield his sons from a world that would reject them. Never would he have guessed that they would see what the world could be in this way. And how he wished he had been there to shield that little boy. His son was looking to him for wisdom on the matter, and he felt suddenly as though he had precious little to give. Where does one find wisdom in such senseless, wicked cruelty? "Do you suppose the little one would wish to be defined by those scars? By those memories?"_

_ "No." Donatello sniffed. "He pretends like he doesn't remember anything."_

_ "But they are a part of him. They are a part of how he moves and how he thinks. They are the world that he knows. Just as the memories of your friendship are becoming a part of him. And as I have watched, **you** have affected how he thinks and how he moves. A bad memory may not be forgotten any more than a scar may be erased. But good does overcome evil. Good does restore. A scarred heart is not one without hope."_

_ Donatello sniffed. "It's hard."_

_ "Yes."_

_ "It's **wrong**."_

_ "Yes. And worthy of your anger." Worthy of infinite armies of anger._

_ Donatello laid his forehead on Splinter's shoulder. "I just wish…" he didn't finish._

_ "What do you wish, my son?"_

_ The young turtle sighed. And said with simple, breathtaking practicality, "I wish that things could always be how I wished them."_

_ Donatello had gone back to his own room that night. And when he had, Splinter observed a change in him. There was a weightiness there. A responsibility. Perhaps not an unwanted one. For the most part, Donatello had always relegated himself to being bossed by Raphael or mothered by Leonardo when the situation called for it. And though the young turtle often acted as the voice of reason or caution, he had never had the opportunity perhaps to hold himself responsible for another. And then there came this small boy. Everything about him complicated and mysterious and contradictory. And this charge Donatello accepted without pausing for a breath, without regard for his own heart. And it was something real and observable that was taking place in the young turtle. And as much as it worried the father, it made him swell with pride. _

_ It was days later that Splinter had the opportunity to put an overly exhausted young human to bed, and the child could hardly have stirred if a carnival had rolled by. And Splinter looked and saw what Donatello had seen. And they were just as Donatello had described. Every one of them. From mid back to shoulder blades where smooth, young skin should be. And Splinter had expected them. He finished his task and left the room. And that night, alone in his room, he wept as his son had._

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

"You were five years old. And you were living with the Proud Tide." Donny's voice sounded hollow in his own ears. It was painfully, outlandishly, miserably unbelievable. Mikey was born into the Foot clan to eventually be taken by a rival street gang? _And then end up with us, _he had to remind himself. _He ended up with us._

He still held his brother's hand, and his brother still wasn't looking at him. "'The Proud Tide.' Still all I can think of is the laundry detergent. Must've told them a thousand times. It's all about the marketing. Like it's just not scary. Everybody expects to hear, 'The Proud Tide: now with bleach.'"

"And they don't know what happened to your mom either?"

"Shift said one of them killed her. But if that's true…and what the Shredder said is true…you think the Shredder would just let that stand?"

"You think maybe this is bigger than either of them is really saying?"

"Having a hard time thinking, actually. Processor's kind of overloaded. At least I know I'm not the only one in the universe who's ever felt this way. I mean…there is Luke Skywalker."

Donny really loved his brother right then. Because what in the world had to exist in a person to make it possible to go through all this and be able to say something like that? "Mikey…" He hardly knew what to say. But he knew what he wanted to know. "What was it like?"

Mikey blew out a breath. He was trying to sound casual. At points he'd almost managed it. But he was shivering and it really wasn't that cold. "Like what was the overarching theme? Or what was it like any given Tuesday?"

"Yeah. What was it like?"

The young ninja shrugged. "They were all scared of me. A lot of them wouldn't go near me. And, as wacked out as it is, at least I understand that part now. But it was just a lot of…confusing, I guess. Different people wanted different things from me, and I was just supposed to…know. Like some people didn't want me looking at them, and if I did they'd freak out on me. But then there were guys that wanted me to look right at them if they were talking to me, and if I looked away, they'd freak out on me. And Shift…his rules never stayed the same day to day. I just…I never quite knew how to be. You know, and I get it now. Like that guy…that guy was going to hit me no matter what I did. He just out and out hated me because of the Shredder. But I never knew that then. He never played it like that. He played it like I'd done something wrong or broken a rule, and he had to punish me."

Don wanted to go back in time. He wanted to go back in time right then and find the monster and tear that guy apart because who looks at a kid between the ages of five and eight—who looks at _Mikey_ _ever_—and sees someone they want to hurt? It was pathetic and wrong and evil. And Donny didn't usually have to deal with this kind of anger, but when someone messed with his family, and especially when they messed with his family like _that_…

"Dude. You're looking kinda homicidal."

Oh. "Sorry."

"Also, my hand is made of bones."

_Oh._ "Sorry!" He released the death grip he had on Mikey's hand. "Are you…"

"I'm fine." His smile wasn't to its usual specifications, but at least it was there. "Sorry. I don't mean to dump all this on…"

"Mikey. Keep going."

Mikey hesitated, and Donny could see the war going on. "It's not…"

"_Please_." He somehow managed to catch Mikey's eyes. And he'd never been able to win this war before, but something had changed. Maybe it was just that Mikey was so freaked out. And that was understandable. Just being in a place similar to the place he'd grown up with people who stood under the same banner…it was just unthinkable. "Please don't stop now."

Mikey sighed. Rubbed his hands on his jeans. Didn't start talking again until Donny reached over and took his hand again. But he did start talking. "I trained with them actually. Sort of. They weren't ninjas. Not by any stretch. They're street level thugs. But they tangled with the Foot enough to work some stuff out, I guess. And my mom had been training me since I could remember, so…there was that."

"Your mom practiced ninja?" Maybe that was more surprising than it should've been.

"She taught me the basics. I never thought it was weird. I was a little kid, you know. It was all I knew. Her background was boxing, though, true Irish form. She had a lot of street in her, too. She didn't talk a lot about her past. I was just little. Maybe she would've told me more if …things were different. But I got the feeling her childhood wasn't the brightest. She was awesome, though. I remember she was quick and crazy flexible. Her kicks were insane. And everything she did, it was like she was dancing."

It made sense. Mikey was so naturally athletic. He wasn't big. He was still hoping for a growth spurt, but he'd never be big. But there was grace and ease of movement and an innate sort of knowledge of form and space and energy and how the body worked with all that. Donny had always thought maybe that it was that understanding that had something to do with why Mikey was so good at art, too. "Must be genetic."

A brief smile. He _loved _her. And Don had known that. He'd known since he'd first seen the locket. But it was so different to hear it. To see it. "I guess…I don't know where she picked up the ninja basics. Guess it's possible she learned from…" Mikey shook his head. And still that wasn't a subject he could deal with all the way. And how could that woman ever be with the Shredder? "Anyway, they drilled what they could into me. Different guys tried to get me to do different stuff. Some weren't so bad. Not everybody was cracked out all the time. There was one guy, everybody called him America, and he was nice about it. I think he felt bad sometimes. Like when I was too hurt or whatever. He'd say he was going to drill something into me, sound real tough in front of Shift or whoever else was there. And then he would take me upstairs and give me a corner and just let me sleep for awhile. He wouldn't talk about it or explain why. He would just look real serious and tell me I should rest while I could. Probably he was my best friend before I knew what a best friend was." He suddenly swallowed.

Donny had a bad feeling. "What happened to him?"

"Shift killed him." Mikey rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He wasn't crying. It was more like he was trying to scrub an image out of them before they could get all the way to his brain. Shook his head.

Donny got a terrible feeling. "Why?"

"I'm not sure. A lot of what went on I couldn't understand. But…with America, it was different. I think…I think it might've been about me."

"Why would it have been about you?"

"He made me watch." Mikey sucked in a breath. "They didn't kill their own people all the time. It wasn't like that. But there were two guys that died while I was there. The first one I didn't know, but I guess was a snitch. And I was downstairs, but I _heard_ it. And the second was America. And I guess he'd tried to get out."

_Deserters and traitors get **cut**._ It had been eight years, but Don remembered the words out of the mouth of a terrified, traumatized eight-year-old child.

"Shift was saying something to me. I don't think I heard any of it. He just had that knife, and I was so scared. And America…he had helped me. You know? Like I look at it now, and he wasn't in the running for a Nobel Peace Prize or anything, but he'd helped me, and nobody else did ever. He was the last thing I had that wasn't…awful. And Shift just…Shift just took a knife and unzipped the guy." Mikey shuddered and looked sick. "Like it was simple. Like it was easy. Like he could do it to _anyone._" He shook his head like he was surprised and appalled and all of it was only just then coming back to him. "And I just got left in there with him. A long time."

Donny sat there in horrified shock. He'd known it would be bad. He'd _known._ Better than anyone he'd known. But this…he couldn't have known this.

Mikey didn't seem to notice. "Anyway." He seemed to shoulder past the memory with difficulty. Swallowed past the tragedy and the ugly and the evil. "That was the kind of guy Shift was. You just…you never knew with him. Some days he would be nice. He'd take care of you. And other days…you just never knew."

Tears were burning Don's eyes. And mostly it was for everything that had happened. But it was also because his little brother had spent eight years burying it all, and it could all bubble up so easily and so vividly, and _no wonder_ the nightmares and the fears that would even now show themselves in subtle, unexpected ways. "This Shift guy. He's the one who…your back?"

Mikey tensed. They didn't talk about his back. And it wasn't because it made him angry. It was because it made him _ashamed._ It _embarrassed _him. And he'd never been willing to talk about it. "Some. Not a lot. He used his hands mostly. He cut me once. On my back. I'd been there maybe a few months. And he lost it one day. I'd thrown a…" he gestured vaguely, "like a piece of a curtain rod I think. And I mean I meant to do it, all the way, and it hit him in the face. I don't even remember why I did. I was just so mad. And he lost it. Took awhile to heal, and a lot of that time I don't remember. Think I got sick. Anyway, after that, he didn't ever…like that again. He would stop if I really was bleeding. And he would stop the others, too, if it was getting bad and he was there. I think he was worried about infections and stuff. Didn't want me to die." He was gripping the knee of his jeans, and his other hand was tight in Donny's, and it had to be miracles or magic, because there was nothing in science to explain what was keeping that kid's voice steady right then. "I didn't want to die either. That was the last time I ever stood up to him really." He looked small and ashamed for a moment. "Probably shouldn't count tonight, since…well, you know."

The storm of emotions raging inside Don paused only long enough to try to process the words. "Tonight?" And already it was all he could do to keep from grabbing the kid up in a hug and declaring to Mikey and the world that anyone who came near would have to go through Donny, and surely he'd misunderstood what his little brother just said. Because it _couldn't _be that…

"Yeah. That building. That's where we were even back then. That guy I was with, that was Shift. He's still there. Looked like he was running things. He got real old."

Mikey. Alone. There. With him. And everything seemed to run together, and something inside Donny exploded.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

The Foot ninja made his way to the meeting point. The plan was brilliant, and he wasn't thinking about any part of it. He was thinking about shadows and what could be lurking in them, and every sound was an assassin, and every corner presented the likelihood of a monster. And he couldn't help feeling doomed, and all he wanted was the supply.

Carefully, he turned the last corner, eyes darting around, seeing dangers that weren't there. And through a basement window and into a room, and it was supposed to be so simple and so quick, and the master would surely be pleased with him, would be so pleased, and he would get all he'd ever wanted. It was supposed to be easy, and at first he didn't understand.

The man sitting at the table was a secret member of the Foot. And there was a bullet wound, and the man was dead.

And there was no duffle bag in the tiny room, and that's when the Foot ninja started screaming.

TMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNTTMNT

Mikey didn't know where all this was coming from. Didn't know if it was okay to be thinking about much less talking about it, but Donny was there, and it was all pouring out, and Donny was just sitting and listening, and he'd been so close to _Shift_ tonight, and now he was close to Donny, and all those things that had suddenly been wrenched to the surface were coming out. And then Donny surprised him.

The turtle shot up, lifting Mikey by the arm to stand with him, pulling him away from the ledge, and holding onto him with a hand on each shoulder. Staring at him incredulous, eye to eye, and there was such _emotion_, and so many that Mikey couldn't distinguish them all. "You went…that was the same place? That was the same _guy_?"

Mikey blinked, and he was startled, and he wasn't sure what he'd said wrong, but there was a big part of his mind whispering, _Everything._ "I…yeah. I told you. I had to see if there were answers there. It was the only place I knew to go."

Donny shook his head. "You walked into the place that was your prison from age five to eight. And you had a conversation with your warden."

That time wasn't even a question and it was confusing. "…We're doing metaphors?"

"Wh…I don't even…you faced _him!_"

Oh. So Donny had seen him fail. Had seen him choke. Had seen him revert back to a helpless little kid. That's what this was. And Mikey realized it wasn't okay. It wasn't okay to talk about all this stuff. It was wrong to talk about it. It was pitiful and weak, and he _should_ be stronger. He'd had three years in that place to work up enough anger to do what he needed to do, and when the moment of truth came, all it had really taken was a few words from Shift to all but shut him down. He'd given up, and that was never ever okay. Even if you knew you couldn't win, you never just give up. That wasn't how their family operated. "I'm sorry, Donny," he whispered. He didn't have an excuse.

"Sorry? Mikey, I want to know _how_. How could you do something like that?"

"I don't know. I was okay at first. I had a plan, and I was sticking to it pretty good, I thought. I made him think I could kill him if I wanted. Because of how people were scared of me when I was little, I thought it would work. And I think he believed me at first. But then…then he figured it out. And he was saying stuff, and it was just…I got…lost, or…" he couldn't even explain it right, and now he was rambling, and he just couldn't take his brother being mad at him _right now_, and especially when that brother was Donny. "I didn't…I just knew I had to go there, and I thought I could do it. I'm sorry."

And Donny just stared at him for a moment. Dumbfounded. And Mikey started feeling like an idiot. More of an idiot. He ducked his head, felt his face get hot, and Donny was still holding him in place by his shoulders. And he'd learned his lesson, and he could bury it again, he would, and he just wanted to be at home and pretending to be good and normal and like everything was okay, and that was always always better than…

"You think I'm mad at you right now." The voice was soft and legitimately amazed.

Mikey wasn't about to look up. "Not mad. Disappointed. Got it." Thousand times worse. Every time.

"Not disappointed. Not disappointed at all. Astounded." Mikey winced. Just a little. He was an astounding failure. Awesome.

He nodded. "I get it."

"No. You're not hearing me right now. _Get out of your head and listen to what I'm saying to you._ Listen to what I'm really saying. Stop hearing what you _think_ I'm saying or what you think I _should_ be saying. _Listen. _Brother, I _love_ you, okay? That's the truth. That is what is true. That is what has been proven and tested and confirmed again and again and again. You always, always start with that." There were _tears_ in Donny's eyes. And Mikey had no idea why, and he didn't expect them, and he couldn't _stand _them, and there was a lump in his throat.

"I...I know…"

"You _don't_ know. You don't. You have no idea. You have _no_ idea, Mikey. And that's on me. If you don't know, I'm not doing my job, little brother. And I'm sorry. But you need to listen to me. You need to listen to me right now, Michelangelo."

"Okay," he whispered helplessly.

Donny's eyes were boring into him, tears lining them, something desperate in his posture, in the way he gripped Mikey's shoulders, something that _needed_ to be understood. And his face crumbled a bit as he fought the tears, and he let Mikey go and turned around. Fists clenched and shaking at his sides. And he looked like he wanted to hit something, and that wasn't what Donny did. Donny wasn't the one who hit things when he was mad. Donny was the one who _fixed_ things when he was mad, so Mikey wasn't sure what this was, didn't know how to fix it; it was always _Donny_ who was fixing _him_. "It's just not _fair_," Donny said, his voice quiet and strained. He bowed his head. "It's not fair."

He turned back around to face Mikey, and Mikey stood frozen to his spot.

"I always wanted to know. Always. You never were going to tell me, were you. If all of this hadn't happened. You never would've told me." Wasn't a question. Wasn't an accusation either.

Mikey shook his head mutely. He never would've told him. Things were better buried. The more he buried the more he could be sure things didn't touch his family. If Donny hadn't known, he never would've hurt like this. And even if he didn't understand it, he knew Donny was hurting.

Donny nodded. And he looked like he would cry. Donny wasn't a crier. Mikey wanted to say something. Something to make it better, but he didn't have any idea what that could be.

"Mikey. Do you know who I was before I met you?"

Mike didn't say anything. He thought he had an idea. He would've loved to have known.

"Before I met you, I lived with my mom. And I loved her so so much. And then she was murdered." Mikey's eyes widened and he shook his head. What? No…what? "And I was there. I saw. And it was so bad that my brain, as a defense mechanism, shut it out. So that I wouldn't…so that I could function. And I was kidnapped by people who hated me. They locked me up. They beat me. They cut me. They lied to me. Every day they lied to me, and everything they did told me I was worthless. And that I deserved it. Even if they didn't say it, the things that they did taught me that I was…wrong." No. No, no, no. That stuff…that stuff didn't happen to Donny. It wasn't okay. It wasn't okay for Donny to even be saying that stuff. That stuff _couldn't _happen to Donny! Donny _never_ deserved anything _like _that! "The one guy in three years that might have been anything other than a monster, the one guy in three years that acted like _maybe_ what they were doing was wrong, they killed him right in front of me. They killed him horribly." Mikey remembered America's face. The agony. Sometimes he could still hear the screaming. The brown eyes he always felt so relieved to see, and they only looked at him for a moment. Then they looked away from him, and they were _dying_. And Donny should never know what that felt like. Donny should never know the horror and the pain and the deep, hopeless, _alone_. "And they hurt me, Mikey! I was just a little kid, and they hurt me! They left scars! I was a little kid, and they taught me what death was, and time after time, I had to wonder when it would be me. And I would die alone, and it was going to hurt. And by the time I was eight, that was all I'd known for almost _half of my life_." Donny was _crying_. Like it was all real.

Tears were falling of Mikey's face, and he couldn't stop them any more than he could stop the memories, and the very thought of Donny going through anything like that made him _hurt._ "Donny, stop…"

"No one else should have to know what I went through, Mikey. I should just carry it. I should be able to carry it, keep it to myself. Keep my family safe from it. And besides, what if…what if they were right? What if I deserved it? What if my family found out that that's what I deserve?"

"Stop! Donny, stop! You couldn't! Nobody could hurt you like that!" And he was crying, and he knew what Donny was doing, and it didn't make any difference that he knew what Donny was doing. Hearing his own darkest thoughts come out of Donny's mouth was too much, and Donny should never know what it was to have to think like that. "It would be _wrong_! You…just…I…"

Donny grabbed him by the arms. "Tell me what I deserve that could ever be better than what you deserve."

Mikey shook his head. Only everything.

"Tell me what you wouldn't help me with that would be so much that I shouldn't help you with it."

It wasn't fair. It wasn't a fair question at all.

"If that was me. If that was my story. If you and I were reversed, in what alternate universe would you let me deal with this on my own? In what universe, if that had been where I came from, would you somehow think less of me?"

He couldn't think in those terms. He just couldn't. Mikey loved his family more than anything. Nobody could possibly love him that much. Could they? Their capacity for love was great enough, yeah, sure, because they were amazing and kind and generous, but it wasn't…it couldn't…not for _him._ He was…it wasn't the same. Was it?

"You went there alone because you thought you should be strong enough to handle it. You thought you should be able to handle years of abuse and torture that most people would never have survived because you thought all of that was on you. _Look at me_!" Somehow Mikey did. Donny spoke slowly. "You did not deserve that. Not then. Not now. And this is the part I need you to listen to, little brother. You are the strongest person I know. _But I could care less how strong you are_. There is no part of this that you need to do alone. You aren't just you anymore. You haven't been just you for a long time. You're _us_. Me and Leo and Raph and Master Splinter, we _need_ you. We don't work without you anymore. Nothing fits without you anymore."

Mikey sniffed, and the tears were still falling, and everything was falling. "I didn't…mean to make you upset." And it was a stupid thing to say, but Donny's eyes were so fierce and so sincere.

"Anyone who looks at you and sees less than what I see will make me upset, Mikey. You thought I was mad at you for not being able to beat a guy who was literally your worst nightmare. And that's _after _I saw you break his jaw. Don't you get it, kid? I couldn't believe what it had taken to get you there in the first place. You are _astounding_. And _incredible_. And _insane_. And the only thing I could ever be mad at you for is not giving me the chance to stand next to you when you're facing down something that any right-minded person would be running from."

Mikey took a deep breath. He let it out shakily. His mind was racing, and his nerves were firing, and all he really wanted to do right then was tell his brother that he loved him. And to thank him. And to tell him he was sorry. And to tell him that he would try to believe him, and that he wanted him there standing next to him all the time, and that he was the best big brother ever, and that even if Mikey deserved better than what he'd had when he was young—and he did deserve better; he did; they were wrong, and he had to believe that; he had to; somehow he had to—he'd never be able to deserve the family he'd ended up with. He wiped his sleeve over his face. What he said, just a little brokenly, was, "Well. That's not true. You were pretty mad when I borrowed one of the axel nuts off your skateboard."

Donny blinked, surprised. And then he smiled a little, and it was warm and safe. "It wasn't one of the axel nuts; it was one of the kingpins, and I still have a welt on my shin."

"I had no way of knowing you'd jump on it without checking it over first. And I needed it for an experiment with magnets. I thought you'd approve. You know. For the sake of science."

"You were playing with a Magna Doodle."

"I…was drawing you?"

"I don't have a moustache."

"But you _should._"

And Donny gave the reluctant smile and rolling eyes that were so super normal and familiar, and usually, he'd give Mikey a little shove or mess up his hair or some such little exasperated type thing that was all about indulging annoying little brothers and letting him know things were forgiven but not forgotten. What he got was pulled into a hug by his big brother. "You're part of a family. And you know it. Don't let all this shake you."

Mikey rested his head on Donny's shoulder. He should've known Donny wouldn't drop it that easy. He smiled a little. Realized he was a bit exhausted. "I'm kind of an idiot."

"Nah. You just like to play one on TV."

He grinned. Didn't say anything. _Love you, Donny._ He'd never really been able to say it out loud. Not to anyone, not even Splinter. He thought he should. He did. It just…it never seemed like…it would be quite right. His father said it. Often. His brothers hardly ever said it out loud, but they'd all told him so at least once. He should be able to say so.

"Whoa. Sun's coming up."

"Ohhh, crap." Mikey pulled away from his brother, and some small part of him felt guilty at the relief he felt for not having to work out the rest of his thoughts. The rest of him was really thinking _Ohhh, crap._ It was getting close to six o'clock then. Which meant the family would be getting up soon if they weren't up already. They needed to get home. Post. Haste. "Don't suppose you left a note?"

The look Donny leveled at him answered the question quite neatly. And probably pretty impolitely.

"Yeah. You were probably thinking of other things. Man. They're going to want to know where we've been."

"Oh, that's a big affirmative." Donny tilted his head and looked at him. And even offered him an out. "Are you going to tell them?"

He didn't relish the thought. Actually, the thought still scared the ninja out of him. But he couldn't keep this a secret anymore. Now that he'd told Donny…not telling the rest of his family felt like it would be the same as lying. Which…actually…he'd basically been doing anyway for about eight years. But…no, it still felt different now. He swallowed. He just really wanted all this to be over. But it wasn't. "Raph's gonna blow a gasket."

The smile was brief and brilliant. "Oh, definitely."

"So…you wanna tell him?"

"Mikey," Donny stepped up and put a hand on his shoulder, all seriousness. "You are my brother. And I would do absolutely anything for you." He patted the shoulder once and turned away. "Ehhhhhxcept that." With that he hopped up on the ledge.

Mikey looked on in amazement. "When did you start being funny?" His only answer was a quick, teasing grin, and then he was following after his brother. And even with all that was in his head, it was amazing how much different it was simply being there with his brother than being alone. He'd talked about it. He'd talked about it out loud. With someone. And he'd never thought that could change anything for the better. And he was only just then thinking he might have been wrong.

* * *

A/N: I enjoyed writing this chapter. Even if it is...pretty much all talking. Wow. It's pretty much ALL talking, isn't it. This is like one of those episodes of Star Trek: TNG where they spend practically the whole episode in a conference room. But...I really like Star Trek. But yeah. Those conference episodes are boring. Ah, well. Mikey needed to get his head screwed on straight before he could move on. And besides, _I_ wanted to cry when I heard what had happened to him. I can only imagine how Donny felt.


End file.
